ROGUES  &  COMPANY 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

CHILDREN  OF  STORM 
TOWARDS  MORNING 
THE  SHINING  HEIGHTS 
HOLY  FIRE  AND  OTHER  STORIES 


ROGUES  &   COMPANY 


BY 

IDA  A.  R.  WYLIE 

AUTHOR   OF 

"CHILDREN     OF    STORM,"     "TOWARDS    MORNING," 
ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 
MCMXXI 


COPYRIGHT,  1921, 
BY  INTERNATIONAL  MAGAZINE  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  1921, 
BY  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  a  very  curious  and  decidedly  uncom- 
fortable feeling,  and  though  he  had  a  dim  idea 
that  he  had  felt  it  somewhere  before,  he  could 
remember  nothing  more  definite  about  it.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  it  was  in  itself  nothing  so  very 
unusual — most  people  experience  the  same  sen- 
sations on  waking  up  at  dead  of  night  in  strange 
quarters.  On  such  occasions  the  victim  grows  hot 
and  feverish  in  the  endeavour  to  locate  the  door 
and  window;  he  cannot  remember  who  he  is, 
where  he  is  or  how  he  got  there;  he  feels  pain- 
fully lost  and  helpless.  Then,  gradually,  his  fac- 
ulties rub  their  eyes  and  arrange  themselves,  and 
the  fact  that  he  is  Jones,  that  he  is  spending  the 
week-end  with  the  Smiths,  and  that  the  uncanny 
apartment  is  nothing  more  terrible  than  their  best 
spare  bed-room,  dawns  on  him  with  comforting 
completeness,  and  he  turns  over  and  resumes  his 
interrupted  slumbers. 

But  in  this  case  the  experience  was  less  pleasant 
7 


8  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

in  its  development  and  considerably  more  original. 
The  more  wide-awake  he  grew  the  less  he  knew 
about  himself.  The  more  he  said  to  himself, 
"My  dear  fellow,  pull  yourself  together — it's  only 
a  dream,"  the  more  obvious  did  it  become  that  he 
was  sitting  on  the  doorstep  of  an  unknown  house 
in  an  unknown  street,  with  aching  limbs  and  an 
aching  head.  Now  such  a  combination  of  cir- 
cumstances is  not  altogether  unusual  even  in  the 
best  society,  and  he  sat  and  patiently  waited  for 
an  illuminating  memory.  But  none  came.  If  he 
had,  as  he  at  first  supposed,  supped  not  wisely  but 
too  well,  where  had  he  supped  and  with  whom? 
There  was  no  answer  to  this  natural  question. 
He  shook  himself. 

"Oh,  come  now!"  he  said  aloud.  "Surely  you 
know  your  own  name?" 

Again  no  answer.  Evidently  it  had  been  a  big 
business.  When  a  man  has  to  resort  to  his  own 
visiting  card  to  find  out  who  he  is  one  may  be  for- 
given for  supposing  that  this  self-forgetfulness  is 
something  less  than  pure  altruism.  The  man  on 
the  doorstep  resigned  himself  to  necessity  and  put 
his  hand  in  his  trouser  pocket.  Nothing.  The 
other  trouser  pocket  was  also  empty — likewise  the 
waistcoat  pocket.  This  was  disconcerting.  What 
was  still  more  disconcerting  was  the  hole  in  the 
knee  of  his  trousers  as  revealed  by  the  light  of  a 
street-lamp,  and  he  thereupon  made  the  discovery 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  9 

that  far  from  being  in.  evening-dress,  as  his  condi- 
tion suggested,  he  wore  a  check  suit  of  vulgar  type 
and  ancient  lineage,  and  that  he  was  cuffless  and 
collarless.  All  this  was  very  surprising  and  pain- 
ful. He  addressed  himself  with  severity. 

"Really,  my  dear  fellow,  this  won't  do — can't 
sit  out  here  all  night,  you  know — not  done — " 

At  this  juncture  Constable  X.  of  the  D.  Divi- 
sion loomed  upon  the  horizon.  Constable  X.  car- 
ried a  lantern  and  was  evidently  on  the  lookout 
for  burglars  and  other  miscreants,  for  he  did  not 
notice  the  man  on  the  doorstep  until  he  had  stum- 
bled over  his  legs.  What  the  Constable  said  is 
irrelevant.  The  man  on  the  doorstep  apologised 
profusely. 

"I'm  sure  I'm  extremely  sorry,"  he  said.  His 
own  prompt  politeness  led  him  at  once  to  the  con- 
clusion that  his  station'  in  life  must  be  something 
between  a  shop-walker  and  a  gentleman,  but  this 
opinion  was  apparently  not  shared  by  his  victim. 
Constable  X.  flashed  his  lantern  onto  the  doorstep 
and  gave  vent  to  a  snort  of  mingled  triumph  and 
indignation. 

"At  it  again!  Eh?"  he  said.  "Got  you  this 
time,  have  I?" 

"It  looks  like  it,"  his  prisoner  admitted. 
"Were  you  looking  for  me?" 

"Now  then,  none  of  your  tongue,  young  fel- 
low! Wot  d'yer  mean?" 


10 

"I  mean,"  said  the  man  on  the  doorstep  cour- 
teously, "that  it  would  be  a  great  relief  to  me  to 
know  that  someone  was  looking  for  me — even  a 
policeman.  The  fact  is,  you  know — I'm  lost." 

"Oh,  so  you're  lost,  are  you?"  The  Constable 
laughed  with  the  rudeness  which  is  born  of  a  shat- 
tered trust  in  human  nature.  "Sort  of  lost  dog, 
eh?" 

"The  designation  will  do  until  I  find  a  better 
one,"  returned  the  other,  wearily.  "But  I  doubt 
if  even  the  Dog's  Home  will  take  me  in.  What 
am  I  to  do?" 

"Move  onl"  said  the  Constable,  from  sheer 
force  of  habit. 

"But  I  can't  keep  on  'moving  on'  indefinitely." 

The  Constable  scratched  his  head. 

"You'd  better  come  along  with  me,"  he  said. 

"Might  I  ask— whither?" 

"Lock-up,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"But  I  haven't  done  anything." 

"Can't  be  so  sure  of  that — and  anyhow,  you're 
sitting  on  someone  else's  doorstep." 

"You  don't  know  that  it  is  someone  else's  door- 
step. It  might  be  mine." 

"It  might — but  it  don't  look  like  it." 

"You  infer,"  his  captive  suggested,  "that  I  do 
not  give  you  the  impression  of  being  a  landed 
proprietor?" 

"Can't  say  as  you  do,"  Constable  X.  admitted 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  n 

frankly.  "You  gives  me  the  impression  of  being 
a  very  common  sort  of  night-bird." 

The  man  on  the  doorstep  shook  his  head. 

"You  judge  too  hastily,"  he  protested.  "If  I 
am,  as  you  suggest,  a  night-bird,  I  have  none  the 
less  the  feeling  that  I  may  turn  out  to  be  one  of 
nature's  gentlemen.  Now,  look  here !"  He  rose 
stiffly  and  painfully  and  conducted  the  doubting 
Constable  to  the  lamp.  "What  do  you  make  of 
that!"  he  enquired  triumphantly.  He  extended 
his  two  hands.  Constable  X.  considered  them 
with  his  head  cocked  astutely  on  one  side. 

"Cleanish,"   he   said.      "Uncommon   cleanish." 

"Sergeant,  you  are  a  man  of  perception.  Now, 
glance  over  me.  Do  not  let  yourself  be  led  astray 
by  the  vulgarity  of  my  costume.  Consider  my 
face,  my  manner  and  my  speech.  What  do  you 
think  of  me?" 

"Well,  you  might  be  a  sort  of  gent,"  Constable 
X.  admitted. 

"Inspector — "  the  young  man  began. 

"Not  yet,  sir — "  Constable  X.  protested  with  a 
touch  of  coyness. 

"Never  mind,  you  ought  to  be  an  inspector, 
even  if  you  aren't.  I  was  judging  you  as  you 
judged  me — by  deserts.  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  be 
a  gentleman,  I'm  sure  you  ought  to  be  an  inspec- 
tor. But  the  trouble  with  me  is  that  I  don't  know 
who  or  what  I  am." 


.12  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Drunk,"  suggested  the  inspector  in  embryo, 
consolingly. 

"I  may  have  been  in  the  past — but  I  am  cer- 
tainly sober  now." 

"Yes,  you  talks  clear  enough.  Got  a  wishing 
card  on  you?" 

"If  I  had,  frhe  matter  would  be  simplified.  My 
pockets  are  as  empty  as  my  head." 

The  Constable's  smile  was  unflattering. 

"Can't  you  remember  anythink?"  he  appealed. 

"Not  a  thing.  I've  been  trying  for  the  last 
half-hour.  What's  to  be  done?  I  can't  stay  on 
the  streets  all  night  and  as  far  as  I  know  I  haven't 
any  claim  on  any  charitable  institution." 

Constable  X.  rubbed  his  chin. 

"It's  a  case  of  lost  memory,"  he  announced  sol- 
emnly. "I've  'eard  of  it  before.  I  knew  of  an 
old  lady  who  wandered  over  'alf  London  before 
they  found  out  that  she  was  a  duchess'  It  was  a 
big  thing  for  the  man  who  found  'er." 

"Nothing  like  so  big  as  it  would  be  for  you  if 
you  found  I  was  a  duke,"  interposed  the  lost  one 
generously.  "If  I  am  a  duke — solvent  of  course 
— I  shall  raise  you  to  a  position  of  affluency.  I 
swear  it  by  my  ancestors — supposing  I  have  any." 

Constable  X.  touched  his  helmet. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said  with  considerably 
more  respect.  "It's  a  case  for  the  doctors — 
that's  wot  it  is,"  he  went  on  thoughtfully,  "wot 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  13 

they  calls  a  specialist.  The  duchess  was  queer  in 
her  upper  storey — senile  decay,  as  they  called  it." 

"Good  heavens,  I'm  not  as  old  as  that,  am  I?" 

"  'Tain't  always  age  that  does  it,"  Constable  X. 
returned,  with  a  grave  and  significant  shake  of  the 
head.  "There's  decays  and  decays.  You've  got 
'em  young — that's  all." 

"Suppose  we  find  the  doctor?"  suggested  the 
young  man  hastily. 

"You're  sitting  on  'is  doorstep." 

The  prospective  patient  examined  the  door- 
plate. 

"Mr.  Smedley,"  he  read  aloud,  "veterinary  sur- 
geon. Look  here,  Inspector,  that  won't  do.  I'm 
not  an  animal." 

"You  said  you  was  a  lost  dog,"  retorted  the 
Constable,  with  grim  delight  in  his  own  jest. 
"Well,  anyhow,  there's  a  Doctor  Thingummy 
round  the  corner.  I  calls  'im  Thingummy  be- 
cause 'e  'as  a  foreign  name,  and  I  don't  'old  with 
foreign  names.  Not  since  that  there  war.  I 
up' olds  the  Law  myself,  but  wot  I  says  is,  'When 
an  Englishman  sees  a  foreigner  he  ort  ter  bash 
'im  in  the  eye,'  I  don't  care  who  he  is- — " 

"Well,  perhaps  Dr.  Thingumitvy  only  sounds 
foreign,"  the  young  man  suggested.  "Anyhow, 
we'll  give  him  a  call.  What  time  is  it?" 

"About  midnight." 

"In  that  case,"   the  young  man  reflected,  "I 


14  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

fancy  that  we  shall  be  the  bashed  ones — bashed 
and  abashed,  you  know."  He  chuckled  encour- 
agingly, but  his  companion  remained  unmoved. 
"However,  anything  is  better  than  the  lock-up  and 
the  cold  stone  of  IVL-.  Smedley's  steps.  Lead  on, 
Macduff." 

"Look  here,  young  feller,  if  you  start  calling 
names — " 

"I'm  not.  I'm  quoting.  I  can't  remember 
what  from — Bible  probably.  Anyhow,  absolutely 
respectable.  Wouldn't  insult  you  for  the  world. 
Why — "  he  exclaimed  with  a  rush  of  pathos — 
"you  may  be  my  only  friend,  Constable." 

"Well,  mind  out.  It's  as  likely  as  not  you're 
under  arrest,  in  which  case  anything  you  say  will 
be  taken  down  against  you." 

"But  I'm  not  a  criminal." 

"Can't  be  sure.  You  couldn't  swear  to  it  your- 
self." 

"Well,  I  don't  look  like  one — at  least  I  don't 
feel  like  one." 

Constable  X.  shook  his  head  gloomily. 

"Can't  go  by  that.  If  you  knew  wot  I  knew 
about  criminals,  you'd  be  surprised.  There  was  a 
feller — a  nice  upstanding  chap,  as  pleasant  spoken 
as  you  please — murdered  his  wife,  he  did.  'Why, 
Constable,'  he  said  to  me  going  up  to  the  dock,  'I 
wouldn't  'urt  a  kitten.'  And  I  believed  'im.  But 
'is  wife  she  got  on  'is  nerves — she  was  always  a 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  15 

hummin'  tunes  to  'erself,  and  the  more  he  asked 
'er  not  the  more  she  did  it.  And  one  day>  right 
in  the  middle  of  'Annie  Laurie/  he  ups  and  'its 
'er  over  the  'ead  with  'is  beer-mug.  Must  'ave 
caught  'er  on  'er  soft  spot,  for  she  never  'ummed 
again.  But  'e  swung  for  it,  poor  chap,  though 
the  jury  did  put  in  extenuating  circumstances. 
No,  sir,  you  believe  me,  you  can't  be  sure  of  any- 
one in  this  life — least  of  all  yourself." 

The  young  man  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead. 

"Constable,  I'm  a  sick  man.  You  don't  want 
me  to  faint,  do  you?" 

"I'm  only  doing  my  dooty,  sir.  Bound  to  warn 
you—" 

"I  know  you  mean  it  kindly,"  the  young  man 
admitted  humbly.  "But  it's  all  very  uncomfort- 
able." 

That  much,  at  any  rate,  was  becoming  certain. 
For  the  first  few  minutes  his  position  had  struck 
him  as  entirely  humorous.  He  had  expected 
each  minute  to  bring  the  desired  flash  of  illumina- 
tion, but  his  mind  had  remained  blank,  and  the 
pain  at  the  back  of  his  head  was  becoming  trou- 
blesomely  insistent.  Who  and  what  was  he  ?  He 
decided  that  it  was  a  great  deal  worse  than  being 
born  again,  because  of  the  additional  unpleasant- 
ness of  knowing  beforehand  all  the  awful  condi- 
tions into  which  one  might  be  flung  by  a  reckless 
and  indiscriminating  Fate.  He  might  be  a  Duke 


1 6  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

— he  hoped  he  was — but  he  felt  his  appearance 
was  against  him.  He  might  be  what  his  clothes 
suggested,  which  was  intolerable.  He  might  be 
married,  and  his  wife  might  be —  At  this  point 
the  possibilities  nearly  overcame  him,  and  he  was 
thankful  for  the  tonic  effect  of  the  Constable's 
grip  upon  his  arm. 

"Hear  that,  sir?" 

"Sounds  like  someone  running,"  the  derelict  ad- 
mitted. "Someone  looking  for  me,  no  doubt — " 

The  next  instant  an  extraordinary  apparition 
tore  round  the  corner  of  the  street  and  was  re- 
ceived full  in  Constable  X.'s  genially  outstretched 
arms.  The  constable  rose  to  the  situation  with 
the  same  sangfroid  that  he  had  displayed  earlier 
in  the  evening. 

"So  there  you  are  I"  he  said.  "Got  you, 
'avel?" 

His  capture  showed  no  intelligent  appreciation 
of  the  Constable's  smartness.  He  broke  into  an 
incoherent  torrent  of  bad  language  and,  disengag- 
ing himself  with  a  dexterous  twist,  revealed  him- 
self as  a  little  dark  man,  of  marked  Hebraic  de- 
scent, in  a  dressing-gown,  bed-room  slippers  and 
an  ungovernable  temper. 

"You  jackass — never  anywhere  where  you're 
wanted — deaf  as  a  door-post — didn't  you  hear  my 
whistle?  What's  the  good  of  whistling  if  you 
don't  listen?  My  house — broken  into — all  my 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  17 

silver  gone — and  you  stand  there — like  a — like 
a — <"  He  ran  his  fingers  through  his  long  black 
hair  till  it  stood  straight  on  end,  adding  a  com- 
ically devilish  touch  to  his  unusual  appearance. 
"My  God — this  country  1"  he  exclaimed  finally,  as 
though  overwhelmed  by  some  culminating  griev- 
ance. "My  God— !"  ' 

"Now  don't  you  go  getting  abusive,"  the  Con- 
stable warned  him  coldly.  "If  you've  'ad  bur- 
glars, we'll  see  after  'em  all  in  good  time."  Then 
with  a  wink  at  his  first  captive,  he  remarked  in  a 
stage  whisper — ''That's  'im!" 

This  cryptic  observation  drew  the  new-comer's 
attention  to  the  presence  of  a  third  person.  He 
swung  round  and  stared  at  the  young  man  with 
his  hands  thrust  deep  in  the  pockets  of  his  dress- 
ing-gown. 

"So  you  did  catch  him.     Your  prisoner,  eh?" 

Constable  X.  scratched  his  chin. 

"'E  is  and  'e  isn't,"  he  explained.  "  'E's 
mad." 

The  doctor's  manner  changed  instantly.  He 
drew  out  a  pair  of  tortoise-shell-rimmed  spec- 
tacles, adjusted  them  on  the  bridge  of  his  thick 
nose  and  considered  the  young  man  with  a  dis- 
passionate interest,  which  seemed  as  out  of  place 
as  the  purple  dressing-gown. 

"Mad?"  he  said.     "Rubbish.     What  does  an 


1 8  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

idiot  like  you  know  about  madness?     Don't  talk 
nonsense." 

"Thank  you,"  the  young  man  interjected 
warmly.  "I  felt  sure  that  our  friend  here  had 
overstated  my  case.  I'm  not  exactly  mad — at 
least,  I  hope  not.  But  I  don't  know  who  I  am. 
In  fact,  I've  lost  my  memory — " 

"Rubbish!  There  isn't  such  a  thing.  You 
can't  lose  your  memory.  You  can  hide  it,  you  can 
suppress  it,  you  can  put  it  away  and  turn  a  key 
on  it,  but  you  can't  lose  it.  If  I  told  you  what  I 
knew  about  memory,  I  should  be  standing  here  till 
to-morrow  morning  and  then  you  wouldn't  have 
understood  half  I  said.  But  though  you  express 
yourself  inaccurately,  I  recognise  your  condition. 
It  is  not  uncommon,  but,  to  a  certain  degree,  it  is 
interesting — " 

" — and  uncomfortable." 

"Possibly — for  you.  That" — he  wagged  a 
long  reproving  finger  in  the  young  man's  face — 
"tha«t,  sir,  is  where  the  scientific  and  the  untrained 
mind  differ.  You  are  concerned  with  trivial  per- 
sonalities, I  with  large  issues,  with  cause  and  effect 
and  the  relation  of  one  phenomenon  to  another. 
You,  frankly,  consider  your  identity  as  the  main 
consideration.  To  me  it  is  not  of  the  slightest 
importance.  How  long  have  you  been  in  this 
state?" 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  19 

"I  don't  know.  The  Constable  here  found  me 
on  a  doorstep  about  half  an  hour  ago." 

"Very  brilliant  of  him.  And  you  have  nothing 
on  your  person — no  obvious  clue — " 

"Nothing.  I  haven't  even  a  brass-farthing. 
That's  what's  worrying  me  chiefly.  You  see, 
doctor — " 

"Frohlocken,  psycho-analyst,"  the  doctor  inter- 
rupted with  a  slight  bow. 

"Thank  you.  I'm  sorry  that  for  obvious  rea- 
sons I  cannot  introduce  myself.  Well,  doctor,  I 
want  your  help,  but  as  I've  already  mentioned  I 
am  penniless  and  for  all  I  know  I  may  remain  so 
and  I  feel—" 

"That,"  said  the  doctor,  "is  a  second  illustra- 
tion of  my  point.  In  the  very  midst  of  what  no 
doubt  to  you  seems  a  catastrophe,  your  mind  turns 
to  money.  What  in  God's  name  do  you  suppose 
I  care  about  your  money?  You  interest  me. 
Microbes  interest  me.  Do  you  think  I  request 
a  newly  discovered  germ  to  pay  me  consulting 
fees?  Don't  be  a  fool." 

The  young  man  smiled  ruefully. 

"Well,  thank  Heaven  I've  got  a  value  even  if 
I  haven't  got  an  identity,"  he  said.  "May  I 
count  then  upon  your  assistance?  Without  it  I'm 
afraid  I  shall  have  to  accompany  our  friend  here 
to  the  police-station.  It's  the  only  invitation  I've 
had  so  far — " 


20  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

The  doctor's  answer  was  to  take  the  young  man 
by  the  arm  and  lead  him  by  long,  unhurried  strides 
down  the  street  whence  he  had  come.  Burglars, 
policemen,  and  stolen  silver  alike  seemed  to  have 
been  swept  from  his  memory.  But  Constable  X., 
not  to  be  forgotten,  ponderously  brought  up  the 
rear.  Five  houses  down  the  trio  came  upon  an 
open  door,  at  the  moment  blocked  by  a  small 
crowd  of  excited  domestics,  scantily  attired  and 
armed  with  pokers,  who  welcomed  their  appear- 
ance with  a  murmur  of  triumph.  The  young  man 
held  back. 

"Obviously  they  take  me  for  your  burglar,"  he 
said.  "It  would  be  perhaps  better  if  you  ex- 
plained— " 

"Rubbish,"  said  the  doctor  firmly.  He  bustled 
his  patient  up  the  steps,  and  a  person  whom  the 
latter  judged  by  his  waistcoat  to  be  a  butler — the 
rest  of  his  costume  was  unrecognisable — made  a 
fierce  clutch  at  the  supposed  captive.  Dr.  Froh- 
locken  warded  off  the  attack  with  a  sweep  of  the 
arm. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  James!  You've  done  enough 
stupid  things  for  one  evening.  Go  to  bed,  the  lot 
of  you.  This  gentleman  is  my  patient.  Come 
in,  sir,  come  in." 

"Look  'ere,"  said  Constable  X.  from  the  door- 
step. 

Dr.  Frohlocken  looked. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  21 

"Well?     What  at?" 

"Look  'ere,"  the  Law  repeated  undeterred, 
"that's  my  man,  if  you  don't  mind,  sir." 

"Your  man?  Is  this  a  slave-country?  What 
right  have  you  to  call  him  your  man?" 

A  shadow  of  bitter  disappointment  stole  over 
the  Constable's  round  red  face. 

"I  found  'im,"  he  said. 

"Suppose  you  did?  What  do  you  want  to  do 
with  him?  Take  him  to  the  Lost  Property  Office 
as  though  he  were  an  umbrella?  My  God — and 
you  call  this  a  civilised  country?  Go  away  with 
you—" 

"Well,  wot  about  them  burglars  and  the  silver 
wot  they  took?"  Constable  X.  persisted  dog- 
gedly. 

The  doctor  pressed  his  finger  to  his  nose. 

"Damn  your  burglars  and  your  silver  too,"  he 
said.  He  slammed  the  door  in  the  aggrieved 
face.  "That,"  he  said,  "is  the  lowest  example 
of  the  type  of  mind  that  governs  this  unfortunate 
country.  Entirely  concerned  with  obvious  and 
insignificant  trivialities.  Utterly  untrained.  But 
for  me  he  would  actually  have  taken  you  to  the 
police-station,  God  knows  what  damage  they 
would  have  done  between  them.  As  it  is,  there 
is  every  reason  to  hope — " 

" — that  I  shall  remember,  you  mean?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken  shrugged  his  sloping  shoulders. 


22  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"My  dear  sir,  you  have  not  forgotten.  For 
reasons  of  which  we  are  at  present  ignorant  you 
are  hiding  your  identity  in  your  subconscious 
mind.  When  we  have  discovered  and  removed 
the  cause  of  your  action  you  will,  as  you  would 
inaccurately  express  it,  recover  your  memory. 
That  is  the  whole  business  in  a  nutshell.  In  the 
meantime  you  must  sleep.  You  have  had  some 
mental  shock.  You  are  suffering  from  a  severe 
nervous  strain — " 

"I  feel,"  the  young  man  interrupted,  uas 
though  someone  had  hit  me  over  the  head  with 
a  brick-bat — " 

"An  illusionary  sensation,  no  doubt,  an  effort 
of  the  mind  to  give  a  misleading  cause  for  your 
condition.  I  have  several  similar  cases  on  my 
hands.  Yours  indeed  is  the  seventh.  You  won't 
object  to  my  calling  you  No.  7,  I  hope?  It  will 
simplify  matters,  and  for  the  moment  you  will 
find  it  a  relief  yourself  to  be  something  definite." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  young  man.  "I  feel 
that  already.  When  I  start  worrying  I  shall 
say,  'That's  all  right.  You're  Dr.  Frohlocken's 
No.  7.'  I  daresay  it's  quite  as  good  as  my  own 
name." 

"Better,  no  doubt,"  the  doctor  agreed. 

He  opened  a  side-door  and  led  the  way  into  a 
plainly  yet  comfortably  furnished  room.  A  sofa 
was  drawn  up  invitingly  to  the  still  glowing  fire. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  23 

The  walls  were  lined  with  books  and  shelves  on 
which  reposed  glass  cases  and  jars  full  of  a  yel- 
lowish liquid  in  which  floated  repellant  lumps  of 
grey  matter.  Dr.  Frohlocken  indicated  one  of 
these  in  passing. 

"My  first  patient.  Sir  Augustus  Smythe.  Suf- 
fered from  delusions,  poor  fellow.  Fancied  that 
water  was  poison  to  him.  The  fossil  who  called 
himself  the  family  doctor  talked  about  tumours 
on  the  brain  and  hereditary  dipsomania  and  God 
knows  what  rubbish.  The  poor  fellow  came  to 
me  in  desperation.  I  was  just  getting  at  the  real 
trouble — a  simple  matter  of  a  suppressed  com- 
plex in  connection  with  a  stepmother  whom  he 
disliked  in  early  youth — when  the  poor  fellow 
died.  Yes,  delirium  tremens.  Very  disappoint- 
ing case.  The  wife  presented  me  with  a  portion 
of  his  bra-in  as  a  sign  of  gratitude.  No  tumour, 
of  course.  Utter  rubbish.  You  can  see  for  your- 
self." 

"Thank  you,"  said  No.  7.  "To-morrow  per- 
haps—" 

"Certainly.  I  am  merely  diverting  your  mind 
from  your  own  troubles.  Now  if  you  will  lie 
down  I  will  cover  you  over  with  a  rug  and  in  five 
minutes  you  will  be  asleep." 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  No.  7  objected.  "I  feel  hor- 
ribly awake  and  my  head  hurts." 

He  stopped,  aware  that  Dr.  Frohlocken  was 


24  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

not  listening.  It  was  further  borne  in  upon  him 
that  as  a  personality  he  had  no  real  existence  in 
the  latter's  eyes  and  that  he  was  there  simply  as 
a  disease  which  hadn't  the  ghost  of  a  chance  of 
survival.  Already  he  felt  the  hopelessness  of  re- 
sistance. He  was  to  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep. 
He  lay  down  and  he  had  a  rather  horrible  sus- 
picion that  he  was  already  sleepy.  The  firelight 
was  growing  dim.  His  bottled  predecessors  faded 
from  their  shelves.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing 
definite  but  the  dark,  unsmiling  face  with  the  black 
eyes  staring  at  him  through  enormous  aureoles  of 
tortoise-shell.  They  grew  larger  and  larger. 
They  seemed  to  be  swallowing  him  up  bit  by  bit. 
And  his  head  with  its  aches  and  anxieties  was  the 
first  to  go. 

"I  suppose — even  a  microbe — may  be  grate- 
ful— "  No.  7  murmured. 

"In  five  minutes — "  Dr.  Frohlocken  said. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  No.  7  and  pushed  him 
gently  into  darkness. 


THE  wintry  morning  sunshine  had  already  be- 
gun to  show  through  the  window  when  the  butler 
tiptoed  into  the  library.  He  carried  a  laden 
breakfast-tray  which  he  placed  quietly  on  the  ta- 
ble beside  the  sofa  and  then  stood  gazing  severely 
at  the  man  who  lay  there  asleep.  Once  or  twice 
he  shook  his  head  with  that  expression  of  aloof 
disparagement  peculiar  to  his  class,  then,  warned 
by  a  faint  flutter  of  the  sleeper's  eyelids,  he  began 
a  discreet  but  busy  clatter  with  the  tea-things. 

The  man  on  the  sofa  stretched  himself  and 
yawned. 

"Morning!"  he  said  sleepily. 

The  butler  apparently  did  not  hear  the  greeting 
and  No.  7  opened  his  eyes  wide.  He  looked 
about  him  and  his  expression  of  peaceful  content 
gave  place  to  one  of  disappointment.  He  rubbed 
his  hand  over  his  dark  head  and  sighed. 

"I'm  just  where  I  was  before,"  he  said. 

"Yes — sir,"  said  the  butler.  The  "sir"  came 
with  an  effort,  but  it  came.  No.  7  drew  himself 
up  and  received  his  cup  with  resignation. 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  can't  be  helped,"  he  said. 
"I  really  hoped  I'd  sleep  it  off  though.  By  the 

25 


26  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

way,  you  had  rather  a  disturbed  night  yourself, 
didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  you  see  your  nocturnal  visitor?"  No.  7 
enquired  with  gracious  interest. 

"I  did,  sir." 

There  was  something  about  the  man's  manner 
which  was  distinctly  unsatisfactory.  It  implied 
unutterable  things.  In  its  self-contained  way  it 
was  inimical.  And  No.  7,  in  his  lonely  friend- 
less state  could  not  bear  it.  Moreover  he  was 
under  the  necessity  of  proving  to  himself  that  he 
had  handled  butlers  before.  He  held  the  man 
under  a  steady  eye. 

"If  you  saw  him,"  he  said,  "then  I  suppose  you 
could  easily  identify  him?"  The  butler  handed 
the  toast. 

"I'm  afraid  not,  sir.     He  wore  a  mask." 

"But  you  saw  his  dress  and  figure?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He  was  about  your  size,  sir,  and 
his  clothes  were  checked — as  far  as  I  could  see — 
a  sort  of  dirty  brown  colour." 

"Oh !"  No.  7  drew  his  rug  up  to  his  chin.  But 
he  knew  by  the  slant  of  the  butler's  eye  that  he 
had  seen  and  he  suspected  the  description  to  have 
been  a  piece  of  pure  malice.  "Scarcely  enough 
for  purposes  of  identification,"  he  observed. 

The  butler  passed  *he  butter.  His  features 
were  expressionless. 


27 

"No,  sir,  I  suppose  not." 

This  was  no  better.  No.  7  felt  thwarted.  He 
put  his  hand  to  his  collar  with  a  movement  that 
seemed  habitual.  It  was  disconcerting  to  find 
that  the  collar  was  missing. 

"Any  clue  been  found?"  he  asked,  to  cover  his 
confusion. 

"No,  sir — but  the  silver." 

"Oh— indeed?" 

"Yes,  sir — down  an  area." 

"Very  fortunate." 

"Yes,  sir." 

By  this  time  the  butler  had  finished  his  arrange- 
ments and  placed  the  morning-paper  on  the  table. 

"You'll  find  an  account  of  it  all  in  there,  sir," 
he  said. 

"What— already?" 

"There  was  a  journalist  fellow  here  last  night, 
sir.  He  seemed  to  know  more  about  it  all  than 
anyone."  The  butler's  face  lit  up  with  a  flash 
of  bitter  humour  which  made  him  seem  more  hu- 
man. No.  7  felt  encouraged.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  they  might  be  friends.  It  was  a  case  for  a 
discreet  mixture  of  tact  and  frankness. 

"By  the  way,  what's  your  name?"  he  asked 
graciously  as  the  butler  reached  the  door. 

"James,  sir." 

"Well,  James,  I  think  it  better  to  inform  you 
my  reason  for  being  here.  In  this — eh — un- 


28  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

usual  state.  I  am  Dr.  Frohlocken's  patient — 
nervous  shock,  you  know,  followed  by  complete 
loss  of  memory." 

"Very  good,  sir." 

The  butler's  tone  suggested  a  discreet  accept- 
ance of  a  more  than  doubtful  explanation,  and 
as  the  door  closed  No.  7  sank  back  among  his 
cushions.  He  had  excused  himself.  And  there 
was  a  beastly  French  adage  about  people  who  ex- 
cused themselves,  even  he  could  remember  that. 
Besides,  it  was  evident  that  in  good  society  one 
does  not  explain  things — even  the  most  extraor- 
dinary— to  the  butler.  His  belief  in  himself  be- 
gan to  fade. 

More  to  change  the  unpleasant  trend  of  his 
thoughts  than  out  of  real  interest  he  took  up  the 
paper  and  opened  it.  Judging  from  the  first  sheet 
which  was  black  with  startling  headings,  Dr. 
Frohlocken  liked  his  news  served  up  in  a  well- 
spiced  form.  Sandwiched  between  a  horrible 
murder  and  the  latest  society  scandal,  the  patient 
discovered  "a  daring  burglary — heroic  conduct  of 
a  butler"  which  he  recognized  at  once  as  the  one 
in  which  Dr.  Frohlocken's  silver  had  been  so 
closely  concerned.  The  account  ran  as  follows: 

"Last  night,  at  about  twelve  o'clock,  the  house 
of  the  well-known  specialist,  Dr.  Frohlocken,  was 
broken  into  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  val- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  29 

uable  silver  stolen  before  one  of  the  servants, 
roused  by  the  suspicious  noise,  gave  the  alarm. 
Great  courage  and  presence  of  mind  was  displayed 
by  the  butler  who  pluckily  attacked  the  intruder. 
The  latter  however  succeeded  in  making  good  his 
escape.  At  the  time  of  going  to  press  no  trace 
of  him  had  been  found.  The  police  believe, 
judging  from  the  manner  in  which  the  robbery 
was  carried  out,  that  the  burglar  and  the  noto- 
rious William  Brown,  alias  Slippery  Bill,  are 
identical.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Brown  has 
been  connected  with  the  most  cunning  and  daring 
swindles  and  burglaries,  but  his  capture  has  been 
made  extremely  difficult  by  the  fact  that  only  his 
most  intimate  accomplices  know  what  he  really 
looks  like.  His  disguises  are  as  many  as  they  are 
complete.  Thanks  to  a  gentlemanly  appearance 
and  manner,  he  has  imposed  upon  his  victims  as  a 
millionaire,  nobleman,  clergyman,  as  well  as  other 
less  distinguished  persons,  and  many  legends  are 
told  concerning  his  cunning.  A  former  accom- 
plice, who  turned  King's  evidence  in  the  last  case, 
gave  evidence  that  Brown  always  carried  a  small 
charm  fastened  to  the  inside  of  his  coat  which 
served  both  as  a  luck-bringer  and  a  means  of  re- 
vealing himself  to  his  accomplices.  This  charm, 
a  small  gold  pig,  popularly  known  as  a  lucky  pig, 
should  prove  useful  as  a  mark  of  identity  when  the 


30  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

time  comes,  but  for  the  present  the  owner  has  dis- 
appeared with  his  usual  completeness." 

Here  followed  further  details  concerning  "Slip- 
pery Bill's"  career  which  were  not  sufficiently  inter- 
esting to  attract  the  reader's  thoughts  from  him- 
self. The  mere  word  "identity"  had  awakened  in 
him  the  recollection  of  his  own  unhappy  state,  and 
he  fell  back  with  a  sigh  of  despair.  This  Smith, 
this  rogue  had  an  identity  and  he  had  none — not 
even  a  bad  one.  To  all  intents  and  purposes  he 
was  nothing  but  a  mere  derelict  on  a  wide,  un- 
known sea,  without  flag,  without  helm,  without 
anchor.  It  was  very  tragic,  very  pathetic,  and  his 
imagination,  taking  the  bit  between  his  teeth,  car- 
ried him  into  scenes  both  probable  and  improb- 
able. He  imagined  in  turn  an  adoring  mother, 
an  adoring  bride,  an  adoring  wife,  waiting  in  vain 
for  the  son  or,  respectively,  the  fiance  or  husband 
who  never  returned.  He  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  must  be  an  affectionate  and  tender-hearted 
man,  for  he  felt  profoundly  moved  at  the  thought 
of  the  possible  pain  he  might  be  inflicting.  He 
grew  desperate.  Was  there  no  means  of  unrav- 
elling the  mystery  which  surrounded  his  life,  noth- 
ing about  him  which  might  awaken  memory  or 
give  some  clue  as  to  his  previous  existence? 

With  a  quick  glance  round  the  room,  to  make 
sure  that  James  was  not  watching,  he  threw  off 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  31 

the  big  rug  and  examined  himself  from  head  to 
foot.  The  result  was  not  gratifying.  His  boots 
were  shapeless  and  ill-fitting  and  the  same  could 
be  said  of  his  trousers,  which,  what  with  their 
pattern  and  the  recent  rent  in  the  knee,  were  the 
last  thing  in  disreputableness.  Anxiously,  he 
plunged  his  hands  first  into  one  pocket  and  then 
into  another,  but  without  any  better  result  than 
on  the  first  occasion.  They  were  perfectly  empty. 
He  patted  the  side-pocket,  the  waistcoat — noth- 
ing. His  hand  glided  over  the  breast  and  there 
stopped  suddenly  as  though  it  had  been  seized  by 
a  vise.  Half  paralysed  he  withdrew  his  hand 
and  looked  at  it.  Then  his  jaw  dropped.  There, 
between  finger  and  thumb,  was  a  small  golden 
object — a  ridiculous  thing  with  a  minute  curly- 
tail  and  impossible  eyes  and  a  slight  but  ghastly 
resemblance  to  a  pig.  No.  7  lurched  to  his  feet. 
He  staggered  to  the  looking-glass.  He  saw  there 
a  pleasant  and  even  good-looking  young  man  with 
a  short  dark  moustache  and  eyes  which  in  a  nor- 
mal state  must  have  been  both  humorous  and 
frank.  At  that  moment,  however,  they  were  wide 
open  with  an  expression  of  almost  delirious  con- 
sternation. No.  7  raised  a  trembling  hand  to  his 
moustache  and  tugged  it  vigorously.  The  result 
proved  it  genuine.  He  tweaked  the  dark,  disor- 
dered hair — no  wig  revealed  itself.  He  groaned 
aloud.  This  then  was  William  Brown — this  was 


32  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

the  real  man.  He  was  neither  a  duke  nor  a  mil- 
lionaire nor  even  a  respectable  loafer — but  a  no- 
torious swindler,  a  thief,  a  rogue.  He  had  stolen 
the  silver  of  his  own  host,  had  preyed  upon  the 
weakness  and  credulity  of  his  fellow-creatures. 
He  was  called  "Slippery  Bill."  The  last  horrible 
item  weighed  more  upon  him  than  all  the  others 
put  together.  If  it  had  been  "Roving  Robert" 
or  "Daring  Dick,"  he  would  have  borne  it  better; 
but  "Slippery  Bill"  lacked  the  commonest  element 
of  romance  as  completely  as  did  William  Brown. 
Both  names  were  vulgar — as  vulgar  as  his  clothes, 
and  one,  at  least,  sounded  as  disreputable  as  his 
past  reputation.  He  looked  at  the  terrible  dis- 
covery lying  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  beady  eyes  twinkled  and  that  there 
was  something  malicious  and  insulting  in  the  twist 
of  the  curly  tail.  Visions  of  rejoicing  mothers 
and  brides  and  wives  vanished.  He  saw  himself 
in  the  dock — sentenced  for  offences  he  couldn't 
even  remember;  he  saw  himself  "doing  time";  he 
heard  the  tread  of  approaching  footsteps — the 
footsteps  of  an  avenging  Nemesis;  he  heard  the 
door  open.  Involuntarily  he  turned,  prepared  to 
face  the  worst,  the  perspiration  breaking  out  in 
great  beads  upon  his  forehead.  But  it  was  only 
Dr.  Frohlocken  who  gazed  at  him  with  a  grim 
displeasure. 

"You've  been  thinking  about  yourself,"  he  said 


33 

crossly.  "I  told  you  not  to.  But  I  was  not  in 
form.  It  shows  how  the  most  disciplined  brain 
can  become  unbalanced.  At  any  rate  you  slept 
well?" 

"Excellently." 

"Did  you  dream?" 

"Not  a  thing." 

"Rubbish.  However,  it's  no  use  expecting  any- 
thing from  a  mind  that  has  not  learnt  to  contem- 
plate itself  dispassionately.  Sit  down." 

No.  7  sat  down.  He  tried  to  do  so  with  an 
air  of  independence,  but  his  recently  acquired 
knowledge  had  cowed  him  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  would  have  stood  on  his  head  with  equal  docil- 
ity. Dr.  Frohlocken  sat  down  opposite  him. 
Except  that  the  lurid  dressing-gown  had  given 
place  to  an  old-fashioned  frock-coat,  his  appear- 
ance had  not  changed.  His  black  hair  still  stood 
on  end  and,  for  some  reason  or  other,  he  was  still 
in  a  very  bad  temper.  After  a  moment's  intense 
silence,  during  which  he  stared  at  his  patient  un- 
blinkingly,  he  produced  a  newspaper  which  he 
spread  out  over  his  knees,  keeping  his  long  finger 
on  a  particular  paragraph  and  referring  to  it 
constantly  throughout  the  interview. 

It  was  a  situation  calculated  to  try  the  strong- 
est nerves.  The  self-discovered  William  Brown 
could  only  set  his  teeth  and  endeavour  to  bear 
himself  to  some  extent  as  became  a  man  of  his 


34  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

reputation.  Highwaymen,  he  remembered,  went 
to  the  gallows  with  a  jest.  Slippery  Bill  should 
at  least  not  cringe  openly. 

"I  suppose  you  still  want  to  know  who  you 
are?"  Dr.  Frohlocken  began  at  length.  "I  pre- 
sume, judging  from  my  observation  of  ordinary 
mentality,  that  you  would  prefer  to  be  recognised, 
externally,  if  I  may  so  express  myself.  The 
desire  to  get  to  the  top  of  a  mountain  without 
climbing  it  is  one  of  the  most  discouraging 
symptoms  of  our  times — " 

"If  you  mean,"  William  Brown  interrupted, 
"that  I  want  you  to  find  out  who  I  am,  really  I 
can't  say  that  I  do.  You  see,  I've  been  thinking 
it  over.  After  all,  you  know,  it's  rather  an  in- 
teresting experiment — this  starting  all  over  again. 
Who  knows — perhaps  I  shan't  like  my  old  self 
at  all." 

"That,"  said  Dr.  Frohlocken,  referring  discon- 
certingly to  the  paragraph,  "is  extremely  likely. 
However,  the  matter  is  not  in  our  hands.  I  fore- 
see that  interfering  busybodies  will  make  a  rea- 
sonable and  logical  process  in  this  matter  impos- 
sible. In  other  words,  No.  7,  I  fear  that  you  are 
already  discovered." 

No.  7  felt  for  a  pocket-handkerchief  that  was 
not  there. 

"It's  not  cricket,"  he  said,  with  passion.  "I 
don't  see  why  I  should  have  a  personality  thrust 


35 

upon  me  that  I  don't  recognise.  I  repudiate  it. 
Why,  I  don't  remember  a  thing  the  fellow  did. 
I  might  disapprove  horribly  and  yet  /  should  be 
blamed.  /  should  be  held  responsible — " 

"Exactly."  For  the  first  time  Dr.  Frohlocken 
looked  at  him  with  approval.  "I  see  that  you 
have  some  glimmerings  of  my  own  idea.  It's 
childish  to  start  at  the  end.  The  only  sensible 
method  is  for  you  to  return  to  your  normal  con- 
sciousness by  normal  means.  That  was  what  I 
had  intended.  Unfortunately  it  is  a  delicate  and 
lengthy  process  and  the  time  at  our  disposal  is 
very  limited.  The  best  that  I  can  do  for  you  is  to 
set  you  on  the  road.  Are  you  prepared  to  an- 
swer my  questions  fully  and  frankly?" 

"But,"  said  William  Brown  bitterly,  "I  tell 
you  I  don't  remember — it's  not  fair." 

"One  moment.  You  say  that  you  do  not  re- 
member. Yet  if  I  asked  you  to  tell  me  some  of 
the  dreams  you  have  dreamed  in  your  other  life 
you  will  no  doubt  be  able  to  furnish  me  with  sev- 
eral examples.  Come  now!" 

This  seemed  innocent  enough.  Dreams  were 
idiotic  things.  No  one  could  be  held  responsible 
for  them.  And  it  certainly  was  odd  that  he  did 
remember — 

"Well,  of  course — I  suppose  I  dreamed  the 
usual  stuff — the  kind  of  thing  everybody  dreams." 

"As,  for  instance — " 


36  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Well,  walking  down  Bond  Street  in  one's 
pyjamas — " 

"As  you  say — common — quite  common — " 

"Falling  over  precipices — chased  by  locomo- 
tives— climbing  spiral  staircases — " 

Dr.  Frohlocken  glanced  up  over  his  glasses. 

"I  might  suggest,"  he  said,  "that  in  these  days 
it  is  not  wise  to  relate  one's  dreams  in  public. 
But  that  is  quite  by  the  way.  Is  there  nothing 
significant  or  outstanding  that  you  can  remem- 
ber?" 

"Nothing,"  said  William  Brown  firmly. 

"Then  allow  me  to  test  your  reactions."  He 
took  a  very  modern  watch  from  his  old-fashioned 
waist-coat  pocket  and  set  it  on  his  knee.  "I  shall 
give  you  a  string  of  words  and  I  wish  you  to  re- 
spond promptly  with  whatever  they  suggest  to 
you.  For  example — "Drink?" 

"Whisky." 

"You  see.    You  get  the  idea.  Butter?" 

"Margarine." 

"Meat?" 

"Coupons." 

"Locks?" 

William  Brown  faltered  —  "Lock-up"  and 
"prison"  had  suggested  themselves  instantly.  He 
suppressed  them.  Dr.  Frohlocken  was  obviously 
counting  the  seconds.  He  plunged— 

"Safes." 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  37 

"Sea?" 

"America." 

"Career?" 

"Criminal — "  This  would  not  do  at  all.  He 
felt  he  had  been  trapped — led  into  a  bog  in  which 
he  was  slithering  hopelessly. 

"Pig,"  said  Dr.  Frohlocken  unexpectedly. 

Thereat  William  Brown's  mind  simply  refused 
to  function.  It  stopped  dead.  He  sat  there  with 
his  mouth  open,  the  perspiration  gathering  on  his 
forehead,  whilst  Dr.  Frohlocken  counted  the  sec- 
onds. It  was  devilish.  There  were  Heaven 
knew  how  many  thousand  words  in  the  English 
language.  Not  one  of  them  came  to  him.  But 
before  his  glazing  eyes  a  monstrous  thing  had  be- 
gun to  shape  itself — a  golden  horror  with  beady 
staring  eyes  and  a  grotesque  tail — 

"A  distinct  result,"  Dr.  Frohlocken  was  saying 
gleefully;  "in  the  short  space  of  five  minutes  we 
have  touched  on  two  definite  suppressions.  I 
have  not  the  slightest  doubt — No.  7 — " 

His  voice  faded.  William  Brown  heard  a  tele- 
phone clanging  in  the  distance.  Ever  afterwards 
he  believed  that  he  fainted,  for  he  remembered 
nothing  further  until  a  hand  was  laid  on  his 
shoulder  with  a  galvanising  horrible  familiarity. 

"It's  as  I  feared,"  Dr.  Frohlocken  said. 
"Thanks  to  that  damn  Constable,  they're  on  your 
track  already.  I'm  sorry.  I  would  like  to  have 


38  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

prepared  you  better.  You  will  now  have  to  en- 
dure the  methods  of  ordinary  unscientific  investi- 
gation. The  best  I  can  do  for  you  is  to  see  that 
you  meet  this  fellow  in  a  more  presentable  condi- 
tion. If  you  go  into  the  next  room,  you  will  find 
a  bath  prepared  and  a  change  of  clothes.  No, 
they  are  not  my  clothes.  They  belonged  to  my 
last  patient.  Threw  himself  out  of  the  window, 
poor  fellow.  In  your  terminology,  he'd  lost  his 
memory  for  five  years.  Oh,  yes,  he  was  cured. 
Wonderful  case.  But  when  he  recognised  his 
family  he  killed  himself.  Very  sad.  However, 
I  think  they'll  fit  you — " 

No.  7  held  his  ground.  He  was  aware  of  a 
horrible  internal  upheaval.  Something  enormous 
was  happening  to  him.  Out  of  the  depths,  as  it 
were,  Slippery  showed  himself  for  the  first  time. 
He  leered.  He  whispered.  He  nudged. 

"You're  caught,  old  bird.  Of  course  he  knows 
who  you  are.  He's  sent  for  the  police.  Bash 
him  over  the  head  and  make  a  bolt  for  it.  It's 
your  only  chance — " 

"I  can't,"  No.  7  argued  desperately.  "It  isn't 
fair.  I've  stolen  his  silver,  I've  abused  his  hos- 
pitality, but  there  is  a  limit — " 

"Stow  it,  old  bird.  You're  a  scoundrel  and  you 
know  it.  None  of  that  pi'-stuff — " 

Physically  he  swayed  before  the  storm.  Dr. 
Frohlocken  took  him  kindly  by  the  arm. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  39 

"When  you  are  ready,"  he  said,  "I  shall  have 
further  news  for  you.  Mind  you,  I  disapprove 
entirely.  I  consider  the  whole  business  outra- 
geous. I  told  them  so.  It's  that  damn  Con- 
stable. When  a  reward  of  £1000  is  offered  you 
can't  expect  an  intellect  like  that  to  worjt  scien- 
tifically. In  fact  I  doubt  if  that  Constable  has  an 
intellect  at  all — probably  he  is  a  mere  instinct. 
Anyhow,  there  it  is.  I  can  only  hope  that  their 
methods  will  not  be  too  much  of  a  shock  to  you." 

"That's  the  sort  of  sense  of  fun  he's  got," 
Slippery  Bill  urged,  insidiously.  "Guying  you, 
that's  what  he  is.  Give  him  one  on  the  bean." 

The  advice  was  obviously  sound.  That  No.  7 
did  not  follow  it,  but  slunk  tamely  into  the  bath- 
room, was  due  to  the  fact  that  he  was  hopelessly 
handicapped.  He  might  be  otherwise  a  scoun- 
drel, but  he  had  become  a  scoundrel  with  a  con- 
science. It  was  an  impossible  situation.  True, 
his  better-half  enjoyed  the  bath,  but  the  realisa- 
tion that  he  had  the  instincts  and  even  the  appear- 
ance of  a  gentleman — Dr.  Frohlocken's  late  pa- 
tient must  have  had  an  excellent  taste  in  suiting, 
and  the  glass  revealed  an  agreeable  young  man 
with  that  correct  bearing  which  is  erroneously 
supposed  to  go  with  a  blameless  life — did  not  re- 
assure him.  Not  for  nothing  had  William  Brown 
impersonated  dukes  and  millionaires  with  impu- 
nity. And  then  there  was  the  Lucky  Pig.  He 


40  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

held  it  in  the  palm  of  his  hand  and  considered  it 
reproachfully.  Its  expression  of  idiotic  compla- 
cency irritated  him.  He  could  not  help  feeling 
that  its  influence  was  bad  and  that  it  had  led  him 
astray  in  his  early  youth  when  a  mother's  care 
might  have  put  him  on  the  right  path,  which  leads 
to  public  funerals  and  other  rewards  of  virtue. 
He  fully  intended  to  hurl  it  through  the  window, 
but  a  second  impulse,  born  of  superstition,  pre- 
vented him  and,  instead,  he  slipped  the  creature 
into  his  pocket.  After  all,  if  he  really  were  Wil- 
liam Brown,  it  was  sheer  folly  to  throw  away 
something  which  had  been  instrumental  in  getting 
him  out  of  tight  places. 

And  this  was  a  tight  place.  He  wanted  all  the 
luck  he  could  lay  hands  on. 

No.  7  went  back  to  Dr.  Frohlocken's  library 
with  the  courage  which  accompanies  a  compara- 
tively new  suit  of  clothes.  But  on  the  threshold 
he  faltered.  Dr.  Frohlocken  was  no  longer  alone. 
There  was  Constable  X.,  helmet  in  hand,  and 
looking  as  though  he  were  in  church,  and  a  second 
individual,  dressed  like  a  Man-in-the-Street.  He 
was  perhaps  a  trifle  too  clean-shaven  and  his  dress 
perhaps  a  trifle  too  unobtrusive.  He  looked  to 
No.  7  horribly  like  a  detective  in  disguise.  Dr. 
Frohlocken  indicated  him  with  a  rude  forefinger- 

"That,"  he  said,  "is  Inspector  Smythe  from 
Scotland  Yard." 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  41 

Inspector  Smythe  jerked  his  head  at  Con- 
stable X. 

"That  him?" 

"That's  'im,  sir." 

"Inspector  Smythe  takes  a  great  interest  in  you, 
No.  7,"  Dr.  Frohlocken  added  with  the  obvious 
desire  to  be  insulting.  "£iooo  is  a  nice  little  sum, 
eh,  Inspector?" 

No.  7  sat  down  because  he  could  not  stand,  and 
the  two  men  stared  at  him,  the  Doctor  with  a 
gloomy  sympathy,  the  Inspector  with  an  almost 
hungry  eagerness.  Constable  X.  had  ceased  al- 
together to  be  human.  No.  7  had  hated  Inspector 
Smythe  on  sight.  Probably  the  dislike  was  inher- 
ited from  his  other  self  which  at  that  moment 
predominated  wholly.  The  desire  to  "do"  his 
enemy  at  all  costs  had  sent  the  last  remnants  of 
a  conscience  in  full  retreat.  He  set  his  teeth  and 
waited. 

Inspector  Smythe  got  up.  He  inspected  No.  7 
from  different  angles.  He  had  a  little  note  to 
which  he  referred,  making  marks  against  various 
items,  after  the  fashion  of  a  man  checking  an 
inventory. 

"So  you're  the  gentleman  who's  lost  his  mem- 
ory?" he  remarked,  finally.  "Don't  know  who 
you  are,  eh?" 

No.  7  felt  there  was  malice  in  the  question — 
the  sort  of  playful  facetiousness  for  which  the 


42  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

police  are  noted.  He  bowed  coldly.  Inspector 
Smythe  sniped  him  from  another  corner. 

"Read  the  morning's  paper  yet,  sir?" 

"I  have." 

"Nothing  in  it  to  strike  your  memory,  eh?" 

No.  7  realised  that  the  end  was  very  near. 
Too  late  he  saw  how  good  Slippery  Bill's  advice 
had  been.  The  odds  were  now  three  to  one — 
supposing  the  Doctor  came  to  the  Inspector's  as- 
sistance, which,  from  his  expression,  was  doubt- 
ful. Constable  X.  blocked  the  window  effectively, 
and  No.  7  had  a  shrewd  if  unreasoned  suspicion 
that  James  was  at  the  key-hole.  He  slipped  his 
hand  into  his  pocket  and  finding  the  Pig  still  there 
clung  to  it. 

"Nothing." 

"Humph.  Well,  we'll  see  what  we  can  do,  eh, 
Doctor?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken  ran  his  hand  through  his  black 
hair. 

"Idiot !"  he  said  distinctly. 

The  Inspector  smiled.  He  fluttered  an  eyelid 
in  No.  7's  direction.  It  was  evident  he  expected 
the  latter  to  appreciate  the  joke. 

"Our  friend  here  doesn't  think  much  of  our 
methods — but  we  police  have  our  little  successes 
too  sometimes.  I  wouldn't  mind  laying  a  bet  with 
you,  Doctor,  that  our  friend  here  will  soon  be  tell- 
ing us  all  about  himself.  Now,  sir,  one  moment. 


43 

When  you  found  yourself  on  the  doorstep,  what 
was  your  first  sensation?" 

"Well,  I  wondered  how  the  deuce  I'd  got 
there?" 

"You  were  surprised?" 

"Very." 

"Did  anything  else  surprise  you?" 

"My  clothes—" 

"Unfamiliar,  eh?" 

"Distinctly." 

"Feel  more  natural  now?" 

"Better,  at  any  rate." 

Inspector  Smythe  nodded  with  satisfaction. 
He  came  closer  to  his  victim.  His  bright  gimlet 
eyes  were  fixed  apparently  on  No.  y's  neck. 

"Found  nothing  on  your  person  to  identify 
you,  eh?" 

No.  7  gulped. 

"Nothing." 

Obviously  he  would  be  searched.  And  the  first 
and  only  thing  that  they  would  find  was  Slippery 
Bill's  mascot.  He  considered  hurriedly  whether 
it  would  be  better  to  stuff  it  down  the  back  of  his 
chair  or  to  swallow  it  whole.  The  latter  method 
occurred  to  him  in  the  form  of  a  gloomy  pun — 
"swallowing  a  pig  to  save  his  bacon" — but  it 
brought  him  no  comfort.  For  one  thing  he  had 
to  keep  it  to  himself,  for  another  it  seemed  to 
point  to  a  hopeless  depravity;  and  for  another 


44  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

it  was  obviously  impossible  to  swallow  anything 
without  detection. 

In  the  midst  of  his  terrible  indecision  the  In- 
spector seized  his  head  and  pressed  it  with  a  vig- 
our which  wrung  from  him  a  groan,  of  protest. 

"Hurts,  eh?" 

There  was,  it  seemed,  something  incriminating 
about  the  head.  No.  7  temporised. 

"Well — it  certainly  seems  to — " 

"No  wonder.  You've  got  a  bump  there  as  big 
as  my  fist." 

"A  natural  one?" 

The  Inspector  grinned. 

"If  a  man  hits  you  on  the  back  of  the  head  and 
a  bump  follows,  you'd  call  it  natural,  wouldn't 
you?" 

No.  7  supposed  he  would. 

"Have  I  been  hit  on  the  back  of  the  head?"  he 
asked. 

"You  have  had  an  accident."  The  Inspector 
wagged  his  pencil  at  the  Doctor.  "How  does  that 
strike  you,  eh,  sir?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken  sneered. 

"You  are  no  doubt  doing  your  best  according 
to  your  lights.  The  probability  that  you  are 
about  to  wreck  my  patient's  mental  balance  for 
ever  is  of  course  an  insignificant  detail.  Pray 
go  on." 

The  Inspector  accepted  the  invitation.     He  sat 


45 

down  again,  to  No.  y's  infinite  relief,  and  referred 
t?ack  to  his  note-book. 

"Now,  sir,"  he  said.  "I  want  you  to  fo11r>w 
me  with  the  closest  attention.  You  have  lost  your 
memory,  but  I  am  certain,  in  spite  of  our  friend 
here,  that  by  suggesting  certain  episodes  of  your 
past  life  to  you  we  shall  effect  an  immediate  cure. 
You  get  the  idea,  don't  you?" 

No.  7  assented.  He  wondered  which  episode 
from  Slippery  Bill's  career  the  Inspector  had  se- 
lected and  hoped  vaguely  that  he  had  never  mur- 
dered anyone.  Inspector  Smythe  put  his  pencil 
thoughtfully  to  his  nose. 

"Imagine  a  big  steamer,"  he  began  slowly.  "A 
well-dressed  young  man  is  lounging  on  a  deck 
chair.  Possibly  he  has  a  French  novel  on  his 
knee,  and  is  smoking  a  cigarette.  But  his  thoughts 
are  elsewhere.  He  is  thinking  of  someone  whom 
he  is  going  to  meet — a  certain  lady  who  is  waiting 
for  him  in  England.  The  prospect  pleases  him. 
He  enquires  of  a  passing  officer  what  speed  the 
ship  is  making.  One  moment,  please.  Has  any- 
thing come  back  to  you?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken  gave  vent  to  a  laugh  such  as 
might  come  from  a  disgusted  hyena.  No.  7  wa- 
vered. As  far  as  he  knew  there  was  nothing 
criminal  in  these  recollections.  But  one  never 
knew.  It  would  have  been  easier  if  he  had  known 
what  sort  of  man  Slippery  Bill  really  was. 


46  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"It  seems — a — sort  of  glimmering — "  he  mur- 
mured. 

"Humph.  I  thought  so.  Now  listen.  There 
is  a  storm.  For  three  days  the  steamer  is  tossed 
about — a  hopeless  derelict — then  stranded.  Most 
of  the  crew  and  passengers  are  drowned — others 
fatally  injured  in  the  vessel.  The  young  man,  of 
whom  I  have  been  speaking,  is  saved  and  taken 
to  a  hospital.  From  thence  he  manages  to  write 
to  his  friend  that  she  should  come  to  him.  Ha — 
how's  that?" 

"It  certainly  seems  to  be  getting  clearer,"  No.  7 
agreed.  If  he  had  never  been  at  sea  before,  he 
was  there  now.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
continue  with  his  half  admissions. 

The  Inspector  smiled  pleasantly  in  the  Doctor's 
direction. 

"You  see.  The  power  of  suggestion.  Not  so 
unscientific  as  you  thought,  eh,  Doctor?  Well, 
sometimes  a  little  bit  of  horse  sense  goes  a  long 
way.  Allow  me  now  to  give  you  the  brief  his- 
tory of  this  young  man."  He  turned  back  to  his 
note-book  and  began  to  read  in  a  loud  monotone : 

"Count  Louis  de  Beaulieu,  son  of  the  late 
Francpis  de  Beaulieu,  of  no  address,  and  of  his 
wife,  the  late  Countess  de  Beaulieu,  nee,  Lady 
Caroline  Sudleigh  of  Sudleigh  Court.  Born 
1890.  Is  known  to  have  been  travelling  round 
the  world  and  to  have  embarked  on  the  'Melita' 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  47 

at  Gibraltar  in  order  to  return  to  England  where 
an  estate  had  been  left  him  by  his  maternal  grand- 
father. 'Melita'  wrecked  off  the  English  coast 
and  all  hands  lost  except  Count  Louis  who  was 
injured  on  the  head  by  a  floating  spar  and  taken 
to  the  nearest  hospital.  Two  days  ago  disap- 
peared whilst  nurses  changed  duty.  Nurse  testi- 
fies to  his  having  written  and  received  letters  and 
to  have  talked  in  delirium  of  his  fiancee.  Can 
give  no  details,  as  was  too  busy  at  the  time  to  pay 
much  attention,  but  describes  the  patient  as  being 
dark  and  good-looking." 

The  Inspector  glanced  reassuringly  at  No.  7, 
who  blushed.  The  Doctor  repeated  his  unpleas- 
ant laugh. 

"That  settles  it,  of  course.  My  God — this 
country — I" 

"One  moment,  please."  The  Inspector 
snapped  his  note-book.  "Do  you  speak  French?" 
he  asked,  slowly. 

There  was  no  evading  this.  And  he  was  in 
such  deep  water  that  another  fathom  or  two 
scarcely  mattered. 

"I  do,  "he  said  firmly. 

"Parlez-vous  frangais?"  demanded  the  Inspec- 
tor, with  increased  solemnity. 

No.  7  smiled.  Somewhere  at  the  back  of  his 
mind  he  had  discovered  a  rescuing  fragment. 

"Mais  certainement,"  he  said. 


48  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

'That,  I  think,"  said  the  Inspector,  "settles  it. 
And  it  gives  me  the  greatest  satisfaction,"  he 
added  pointedly,  "to  have  been  the  means  of  iden- 
tifying you,  Count."  He  produced  the  title  with 
the  gesture  of  an  actor  who  knows  he  has  effected 
an  artistic  and  striking  curtain.  No.  7  rose  slowly 
to  his  feet.  Whatever  other  social  positions  he 
had  arrogated  to  himself  in  his  murky  past  this 
one,  at  least,  was  being  thrust  upon  him. 

"Do  you  mean — /  am  the  Count?"  he  stam- 
mered. 

The  Inspector  bowed. 

"There  is,  in  my  mind,  no  doubt  of  it." 

"He's  going  to  faint!"  Dr.  Frohlocken 
burst  out  furiously.  "And  I  don't  wonder.  If 
he  dies  or  goes  mad  I  wash  my  hands  of  the 
whole  business.  I  never  heard  of  such  methods 
— such  damned  folly — " 

No.  7  had,  in  fact,  caught  hold  of  the  chair 
back  for  support.  The  shock  had  been  too  sudden. 
His  outraged  and  absurd  conscience,  stung  to  a 
last  desperate  resistance,  struggled  against  the  lies 
and  deceptions  in  which  he  was  being  involved. 
Beautiful  women,  rich  young  foreigners,  steam- 
ers, wrecks  and  untold  wealth  broke  over  him  in 
an  avalanche.  He  tried  to  explain — to  deny — to 
confess.  He  went  so  far  as  to  put  his  hand  to  his 
pocket  to  produce  the  fatal  and  damning  Pig — 
then  he  caught  sight  of  Constable  X.'s  face  and 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  49 

desisted.  That  officer's  expression  of  hungry  de- 
sire to  arrest  someone  chilled  No.  y's  nobler  im- 
pulse. He  gave  his  conscience  the  coup  de  grace 
and  the  Pig  slid  back  into  its  hiding  place. 

"I  accept  the  identification,"  he  said.  "I  may 
be  out  of  practice  but  I  shall  endeavour  to  fill  my 
position  worthily." 

Dr.  Frohlocken  snorted  with  disgust,  but  Slip- 
pery Bill  was  heard  to  applaud  warmly  from  the 
depths. 


CHAPTER  III 

DURING  the  next  forty-eight  hours  Monsieur 
de  Beaulieu,  of  innumerable  aliases,  scarcely 
knew  whom  he  disliked  most  of  the  three  people 
amongst  whom  circumstances  forced  him  to  move 
and  have  his  being.  Had  they  regarded  him  as 
a  fellow  creature  in  distress  he  might  have  liked 
them  well  enough — even  James  had  his  relenting 
moments,  and  the  Inspector  was  of  a  refreshing 
hopefulness — but  to  them  he  was  not  a  human 
being  at  all,  but  an  Object,  to  James  an  Object  of 
suspicion,  to  the  Doctor  an  Object  of  Scientific 
Interest  and  to  the  Inspector  a  matter  of  a  thou- 
sand pounds  hard  cash.  All  three  were  out  to 
prove  something  at  his  expense,  James  that  he 
wasn't  what  he  seemed,  the  Inspector  that  he  was 
what  he  wanted  him  to  be,  and  the  Doctor  that  the 
Inspector  was  an  outrageous  ass.  Of  the  three 
the  Doctor  was  undoubtedly  the  most  dangerous. 
The  Inspector  at  least  played  a  straightforward 
game  and  at  the  worst  he  could  only  produce  evi- 
dence from  the  outside  against  which  Monsieur 
de  Beaulieu  could  defend  himself  with  some  pos- 
sibility of  success.  But  Dr.  Frohlocken  was  out 

50 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  51 

for  King's  evidence.  And  the  victim  was  to  give 
evidence  against  himself. 

"It  doesn't  matter  what  you  are,"  was  one  of 
the  Doctor's  most  disturbing  dicta,  "it's  what  you 
think  you  are  that  matters." 

And  his  methods  savoured  of  a  perpetual 
Third  Degree.  By  this  time  his  patient  had  ob- 
tained a  general  and  very  unfavourable  concep- 
tion of  the  Doctor's  theories.  Life  wasn't  the 
relatively  simple  business  he  had  supposed.  It 
was  an  appearance,  a  disguise  cloaking  unspeak- 
able possibilities.  Nothing  you  did  was  innocent 
or  insignificant.  Everything  pointed  to  something. 
The  way  you  sneezed,  the  way  you  cut  your  bread 
and  butter,  your  likes  and  dislikes,  your  harmless 
little  idiosyncrasies  were  all  symptoms — usually 
of  something  highly  discreditable.  As  to  dreams, 
Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  learnt  to  lie  about  them 
after  his  second  night.  From  thence  on  he  in- 
vented them,  but  with  very  little  success — a 
charming  idyllic  scene  in  which  angels  and  heav- 
enly choirs  played  the  chief  part  proving  itself 
to  have  an  entirely  unsuspected  significance. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  was  impossible  to 
know  when  and  how  the  lurking  Slippery  Bill 
might  be  coaxed  out  into  the  open. 

On  the  other  hand,  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  was 
steadying  to  his  part.  He  was  getting  back  some- 
thing of  the  nerve  which  must  have  carried  him 


52  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

safely  through  other  forgotten  adventures.  By 
his  fourth  morning  he  had  almost  begun  to  enjoy 
himself.  The  mere  fact  that  he  had  genuinely 
lost  his  memory  did  not  trouble  him  at  all.  On 
the  contrary,  the  inability  to  remember  his  past 
seemed  to  him  a  distinct  professional  advantage, 
conducing  to  a  sincere  innocency  and  ignorance  of 
the  world's  ways,  not  to  mention  his  own.  In 
fact,  but  for  the  existence  of  the  Pig  he  might 
honestly  have  believed  himself  a  Count  or  any- 
thing else  that  the  Inspector  had  chosen  to  sug- 
gest to  him.  As  it  was,  he  was  able  to  approach 
his  breakfast  with  zest.  Even  the  unexpectedly 
early  appearance  of  the  Inspector  himself  did  not 
prevent  him  removing  the  top  of  his  second  egg 
with  a  nice  accuracy. 

"I  think,"  Inspector  Smythe  said,  shaking 
hands  firmly  with  the  Doctor  regardless  of  the 
latter's  obvious  unwillingness,  "I  think,  gentle- 
men, that  matters  are  coming  to  a  head.  Hence 
this  visit.  I  have  obtained  what  will  prove  to  be 
conclusive  evidence.  Personally,  I  was  satisfied 
at  once,  but  of  course  we  could  not  expect  the  late 
Lord  Sudleigh's  executors  to  look  at  it  in  that 
way.  A  few  more  formalities,  however,  my  dear 
Count,  and  we  shall  be  through." 

Dr.  Frohlocken  smiled  satirically,  but  the  In- 
spector, who  was  considering  Monsieur  de  Beau- 
lieu  with  an  almost  tender  solicitude,  was  un- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  53 

aware  of  the  fact.  Indeed  the  Count  had  an  un- 
comfortable conviction  that  Slippery  Bill  himself 
could  not  have  aroused  a  deeper  feeling  of  pride 
and  proprietorship  in  the  breast  of  his  captor. 
But  he  had  no  means  of  resisting  this  encroach- 
ment on  his  freedom.  When  a  man  wears  an- 
other man's  clothes  and  another  man's  name  and 
is  contemplating  the  use  of  another  man's  money, 
it  is  inappropriate  to  argue  the  Rights  of  Prop- 
erty, and  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  resigned  himself 
to  his  position  and  his  breakfast. 

"The  reason  I  turned  up  so  early,"  the  In- 
spector explained,  referring  to  his  watch,  "is  that 
I'm  expecting  my  evidence  to  turn  up  here.  You'll 
excuse  the  liberty  I'm  sure,  Doctor.  From  the 
point  of  view  of  your  patient's  health,  you 
know — " 

"Your  consideration  dumfounds  me,"  Dr. 
Frohlocken  interjected.  "May  I  ask  whom  my 
unfortunate  patient  is  to  be  confronted  with  this 
morning?" 

"Well,  in  the  first  place  there's  Lord  Sud- 
leigh's  lawyer — " 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  dropped  his  egg-spoon. 

"In  my  present  state  of  health,  I  consider  that 
my  feelings  ought  to  be  considered,"  he  said, 
plaintively.  "And  I  don't  like  lawyers." 

"Memory  returning,  eh  what?"  the  Inspector 
suggested. 


54  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"I  think  it's  instinct,"  the  Count  explained. 

"Well,  anyhow  he  had  to  come.  That's  him 
ringing  now,  I've  no  doubt.  Or  maybe  it's  your 
nurse — " 

"My  what?"  The  Count  had  now  definitely 
finished  with  his  breakfast.  The  Inspector  smiled 
reassuringly  upon  him. 

"Your  nurse,  Count.  I  sent  for  her  so  that  she 
could  meet  you  together  with  the  lawyer  fellow. 
Identification,  you  understand.  Nurse  bound  to 
recognise  you — " 

"But — look  here — "  the  Count  put  his  hand  to 
his  burning  forehead.  A  lawyer  was  bad  enough, 
but  a  nurse — the  loving  guardian  of  somebody 
else's  tender  youth — was  too  much.  Discovery 
again  loomed  on  the  horizon,  and  he  did  not  want 
to  be  discovered.  Whether  it  belonged  to  him 
or  not,  the  position  of  Count  de  Beaulieu  suited 
him  down  to  the  ground,  and  he  had  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  surrendering  it  without  a 
struggle.  "Excuse  me,  Inspector,"  he  said,  "but 
if  I  have  been  travelling  round  the  world  for  the 
last  few  years,  how  do  you  expect  this — eh — per- 
son to  recognise  me?" 

Inspector  Smythe  stopped  half-way  to  the  door. 

"Recognise  you — why  shouldn't  she  recognise 
you?  Why,  only  a  week  ago  she  was  nursing 
you!" 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  55 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  drew  himself  up  to  his 
full  height. 

"It  is  quite  true  that  I  have  completely  forgot- 
ten my  past,"  he  said  with  dignity,  "but  one  thing 
I'll  swear  to — I  haven't  had  a  nurse  for  the.  last 
twenty  years  and  anybody  who  says  she — " 

"My  dear  Count,"  interrupted  the  Inspector. 
"I  don't  mean  that  sort — I  mean  a  sick  nurse, — 
a  hospital  nurse.  But  of  course  you've  forgotten 
— the  wreck,  you  know." 

The  Count  put  his  hand  to  the  back  of  his  head 
which  was  still  sensitive.  A  light  had  dawned, 
but  it  was  scarcely  a  comforting  one. 

"So  it's  her!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  regrettable 
lack  of  grammar.  "Good  God!" 

"Just  you  wait,"  said  his  protector,  consol- 
ingly, "I'll  bring  the  whole  lot  in  and  then  we'll 
be  through  with  it — " 

"Look  here!"  the  Count  held  out  a  detaining 
hand.  "Supposing  she  says  I'm  not  who  you  think 
I  am — what's  going  to<  happen?  It's  not  a  hang- 
ing business,  is  it?  I  never  thought  of  being 
a  Count  until  you  suggested  it  and  I — " 

UI  take  all  responsibility,"  said  the  Inspector 
firmly.  "And  if  you  are  not  you  then  we  must 
find  out  who  you  are.  You  must  be  somebody." 

"I  suppose  so."  The  Count  tugged  at  his  small 
moustache.  "On  the  whole  though — if  you  don't 
mind  and  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst — I  think 


56  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

I  won't  bother  any  more  about  it.  It's  rather 
nerve-racking,  you  know — this  sort  of  quick- 
change  business.  If  I'm  not  the  Count  de  Beau- 
lieu  I'll  just  start  life  again  as — eh — anybody — 
Adol — Tom  Smith — Brown — "  He  had  sup- 
pressed the  William  with  an  effort  which  left  him 
breathless  and  horror-stricken  by  the  nearness  of 
his  escape.  The  Inspector  wagged  a  playful 
finger. 

"Now  just  you  wait,  Count,"  he  said  sooth- 
ingly. "All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  wait  and  keep 
cool — quite  cool — " 

He  was  out  of  the  room  before  any  further 
protest  could  be  made,  and  the  Count,  having 
overcome  the  temptation  to  put  an  end  to  the 
situation  by  jumping  through  the  window,  pre- 
pared himself  for  the  next  dilemma,  with  a  sang- 
froid which  the  events  of  the  last  few  days  had 
helped  to  develop  in  him.  Nevertheless,  as  he 
heard  returning  footsteps,  he  had  some  difficulty 
in  retaining  his  attitude  of  dignified  and — he 
hoped — aristocratic  composure  by  the  fireside. 
He  knew  that  his  face  was  redder  than  is  con- 
sidered elegant  in  good  society  and  his  high  col- 
lar— his  first  purchase  with  the  Count's  money — 
had  become  uncomfortably  tight  and  hot.  Even 
his  last  resource,  an  eyeglass  which  he  had  ac- 
customed himself  to  wearing  in  moments  of  ex- 
treme pressure,  failed  him  by  dropping  as  the 


57 

door  opened,  with  a  nerve-jarring  click  against 
his  waistcoat  button. 

The  Inspector  had  left  the  room  in  a  certain 
state  of  excitement.  He  returned  with  the  pom- 
pous and  funereal  tread  of  a  man  conscious  that 
the  eyes  of  the  world  are  upon  you.  Behind  him 
loomed  a  Large  Person  in  the  garb  of  a  hospital 
nurse  and,  behind  her  again,  a  ferret-like  little 
man,  in  all  the  glory  of  the  professional  frock- 
coat,  was  endeavouring — not  very  successfully — to 
make  himself  visible. 

There  was  a  moment's  potential  silence.  The 
Inspector  made  a  solemn  gesture  of  introduction. 

"Permit  me,"  he  said.  "Count  Louis  de 
Beaulieu — Nurse  Bunbury — Mr.  Simmons;  Dr. 
Frohlocken — Nurse  Bunbury — " 

The  Doctor  removed  his  spectacles,  placed 
them  in  an  inner  pocket  and  buttoned  up  his  coat 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  refuses  to  contemplate 
a  disgraceful  scene.  Count  Louis,  raised  by  the 
dignity  of  his  full  title,  endeavoured  to  pull  him- 
self together.  The  Large  Person  was  staring  at 
him  with  a  blankness  which  boded  nothing  good 
and  the  lawyer  had  evidently  already  summed  him 
up  and,  from  the  expression  of  the  small  eyes  be- 
hind the  pince-nez,  none  too  favourably.  Hither- 
to Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  had  felt  himself  sur- 
prisingly at  home  in  his  position.  Under  this 
combined  attack  he  began  to  slide  rapidly  down 


5 8  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

the  social  scale.  There  was  no  doubt  that  the 
game  was  up.  It  only  remained  for  him  to  carry 
the  rest  of  his  brief  glory  to  a  gallant  end. 

"I'm  awfully  grateful  to  you  both  for  coming 
to  my  assistance  like  this,"  he  said.  "Please  sit 
down." 

His  manner  was  gracious  and  gentlemanly. 
The  Large  Person  alone  persisted  in  her  uncom- 
promising stare.  The  lawyer  obviously  softened. 

"Thank  you — thank  you — "  he  was  heard  to 
murmur.  "Delighted  to  be  of  any  assistance." 
After  which  admission  he  sat  down  and  produced 
a  number  of  sealed  documents  which  he  laid  on 
the  table  with  an  air  of  grave  mystery  and  pol- 
ished his  pince-nez  with  a  corner  of  his  handker- 
chief. "You  say  you  are  the  Count  Louis  de 
Beaulieu?"  he  asked — so  suddenly  and  loudly 
that  even  the  Large  Person  started. 

The  Count  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"I  don't  say  so,"  he  said.     "I  am  told  so." 

"Ah,  yes,  of  course.  Loss  of  memory.  Very 
awkward  indeed." 

"But  very  interesting,"  put  in  the  Doctor  satir- 
ically. Whereupon  the  Large  Person  testified 
her  assent  by  a  slow  and  twice  repeated  nod  of 
the  neatly  bonneted  head. 

Mr.  Simmons  coughed. 

"It  is  a  case  of  identification  by  credible  wit- 
nesses then,"  he  said.  "To  all  intents  and  pur- 


59 

poses,  Count,  we  might  as  well  look  upon  you  as 
a  corpse." 

"By  all  means,"  the  Count  agreed.  "Barring 
anatomical  researches  there  is  nothing  I  should 
like  better.  Pray  proceed." 

"But  it  is  not  an  easy  case,"  Mr.  Simmons  went 
on,  with  the  air  of  reproving  unwarrantable  lev- 
ity. "Your  inability  to  testify  on  your  own  be- 
half, and  the  difficulty  in  procuring  witnesses, 
make  the  matter  exceptionally  complicated.  I 
may  remind  you  that  you  have  no  relative  living  to 
identify  you.  Your  uncle,  my  late  client,  Lord 
Sudleigh,  who  has  left  you  the  property  in  ques- 
tion, died  two  months  ago.  His  direct  heir  has 
never  seen  you.  Your  past  mode  of  life,  which, 
if  I  may  say  so,  appears  to  have  been  somewhat 
roving,  makes  it  practically  impossible  to  procure 
reliable  witnesses.  Those  who  knew  you  on  board 
the  'Melita'  are  unfortunately  deceased.  It  re- 
mains to  be  seen  whether  Nurse  Bunbury,  who 
attended  Count  de  Beaulieu,  recognises  you  as  her 
patient." 

"Exactly!"  said  the  Inspector. 

The  Count  put  his  hand  involuntarily  to  his 
collar.  The  great  and  critical  moment  had  come. 
The  only  person  who  appeared  indifferent  to  the 
fact  was  Nurse  Bunbury  herself.  Her  expression 
remained  blank.  "Come  1"  exclaimed  the  lawyer, 


60  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

sharply.  "Is  he  or  is  he  not  the  Count  de 
Beaulieu?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said. 

"Nonsense — you  must  know.  He  was  under 
your  charge  for  two  days." 

"I  don't  know,"  the  Large  Person  repeated, 
stonily.  "There  doesn't  seem  to  be  anything  the 
matter  with  him." 

"Good  heavens,  woman — n 

"Except  a  bit  of  fever  perhaps,"  she  interposed 
with  the  air  of  modifying  an  important  statement, 
"but  then  most  of  'em  have  that." 

Mr.  Simmons  interposed  with  an  air  of  ex- 
emplary patience. 

"But,  my  good  person — "  he  began,  "nobody 
wants  to  know  if  there  is  anything  the  matter 
with  him.  You  have  come  here — " 

"If  there  isn't  anything  the  matter  with  him," 
Nurse  Bunbury  interrupted,  "I  can't  tell  whether 
I  know  him  or  not.  That's  all  I  can  say,  but  I 
would  like  to  add  that  my  name  is  Bunbury — 
Nurse  Bunbury — and  that  I  am  not  a  person.  I 
am  a  lady." 

The  Inspector  looked  at  the  lawyer  and  the 
lawyer  stared  at  his  documents.  The  Count  re- 
placed his  eyeglass  in  a  bright  eye  which  was 
twinkling  at  that  moment  with  completely  recov- 
ered good-humour. 

"You  mean  to  say,"  Mr.  Simmons  began  again 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  61 

sternly,  "that  you  only  recognise  your  patients  by 
their  diseases?" 

"Diseases  and  haccidents,"  the  Large  Person 
assented.  "I  have  ten  of  'em  under  me  this  very 
day.  No.  I,  dislocated  knee  joint.  No.  2, 
broken  leg.  No.  3,  amputated  big  toe.  No. 

4—" 

"Thank  you — "  began  the  Doctor  hastily. 

"And  last  week  I  was  in  the  infection  ward," 
Nurse  Bunbury  continued  undeterred.  "Twelve 
of  'em  I  had — and  every  one  of  'em  diphtherias. 
Only  knew  them  by  their  temperatures.  No.  6, 
he  died  yesterday — " 

The  lawyer  shifted  his  chair  nearer  the  open 
window. 

"Very  interesting,  Nurse,"  he  said,  "very  in- 
teresting indeed,  but  scarcely  to  the  point.  Would 
you  mind  turning  your  attention  to  your  late  pa- 
tient, Count  Louis  de  Beaulieu?  What  was  the 
matter  with  him,  pray?" 

"If  you  mean  No.  7 — "  the  Large  Person 
began. 

"I  mean  the  patient  who  disappeared  last 
Thursday  week  with  somebody  else's  clothes." 

"That's  No.  7,"  she  said  at  once.  "Came  in 
with  a  whole  lot  of  'em — half  drowned,  that's 
what  they  were.  Couldn't  tell  tother  from  which. 
But  7,  he  was  a  scamp.  He  went  off  with 
No.  9's  trousers  and  waistcoats.  No.  9  died  next 


62  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

day,  which  was  a  mighty  good  thing  considering 
his  nasty  temper.  If  he  had  known  that  his 
trousers — " 

By  this  time  Dr.  Frohloeken  had  replaced  his 
spectacles,  through  which  he  was  gazing  at  the 
Large  Person  with  interest  and  satisfaction. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Madam"  he  said.  "You 
appear  to  have  the  proper  scientific  point  of  view. 
You  are  not  concerned  with  absurd  personalities. 
It  happens  that  I,  too,  regard  him  as  No.  7.  And 
No.  7  he  remains  until  by  reasonable  meth- 
ods—" 

"I  am  asking  you  about  your  patient,"  Mr. 
Simmons  put  in  with  determined  patience.  "What 
was  the  matter  with  him?" 

"Concussion,  sir,  with  fever  and  a  tempera- 
ture—" 

"Stop  I"  The  Inspector  pointed  an  accusing 
finger  at  her.  "Did  you  say  concussion?" 

"I  did,  sir." 

"From  a  blow?" 

"On  the  back  of  the  head.  A  nasty-looking 
thing—" 

"Wait  I"  The  Inspector  crossed  the  room  and 
taking  the  Count  by  the  shoulders  whirled  him 
round  and  removed  the  bandage  very  much  as  a 
conjuror  removes  the  cloth  from  the  magic  flower- 
pot from  whence  rabbits  and  other  surprises  are 


63 

to  make  their  appearance.  "Look  at  that!"  he 
commanded. 

The  Large  Person  looked.  The  lawyer  looked. 
The  Count  blushed  self-consciously. 

"How  about  that?"  the  Inspector  appealed. 

"If  it  isn't  it,"  the  Large  Person  began  sol- 
emnly, "then  it's  as  like  it  as  if  it  was  its  twin- 
brother." 

The  Count  was  permitted  to  turn  round.  He 
found  the  Inspector  flushed  with  triumph,  the 
lawyer  dubious.  Nurse  Bunbury  smiled  upon  him 
with  delighted  recognition. 

"I  knew  it  at  once,  No.  7,"  she  said.  "Couldn't 
have  made  a  mistake  about  it.  And  now  I  be- 
lieve I  remember  you,  too.  When  I  was  bandag- 
ing your  head  I  said  to  myself,  'If  that  young 
fellow  has  any  sense  left  in  him  after  that  it's  a 
wonder!'  And  how  you  talked!  My  gracious, 
you  kept  us  all  awake  with  'her.'  It  was  'Theo- 
dora this'  and  'Theodora  that'  till — " 

The  Count  coughed.  They  were  on  thin  ice 
again  and  though  it  was  a  satisfaction  to  know 
the  lady's  name  he  felt  that  there  was  something 
indiscreet  in  his  discussion  of  another  man's  love- 
affairs. 

"I  think,"  he  said  with  dignity,  "that  we  can 
leave  the  lady  out  of  the  case." 

"I  should  hope  so,"  the  Doctor  muttered. 

Mr.  Simmons  shook  his  head. 


64  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"It  would  be  a  great  gain  if  we  could  find  this 
'Theodora,'  "  he  observed.  "I  confess,  Inspector, 
that  though  your  theories  are  very  ingenious  I 
feel  doubtful  as  to  whether  I  should  like  to  trust 
them  to  the  extent  of  £10,000  a  year  and  an  estate 
in  Norfolk.  You  will  admit  that  the  evidence 
is  weak  in  the  extreme — " 

"Weak!    What  more  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  Theodora,"  Mr.  Simmons  returned 
with  a  dryness  of  manner  which  nullified  the  sug- 
gestion of  tenderness  in  his  words. 

The  Inspector  shook  his  head  and  turned  his 
eyes  to  the  ceiling  as  though  hoping  to  find  there 
a  sympathetic  witness  to  so  much  unreasonable- 
ness. But  before  he  had  sufficiently  recovered 
himself  to  protest  the  door  was  opened  and  James 
stood  solemnly  on  the  threshold. 

"If  you  please,  sir,  a  lady  to  see  you,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

The  Doctor  waved  his  hands  distractedly. 

"I  do  not  want  to  see  her.  Can't  you  see  I 
have  enough  fools  here  already.  Send  her  away." 

"If  you  please,  sir,  it  is  your  consultation 
hour." 

"What  do  I  care,  idiot.  Send  her  away,  I 
tell  you!" 

"If  you  please,  sir,  she  said  it  was  very  im- 
portant." 

"What  do  you  mean?    Is  she  dying?" 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  65 

"I  don't  know,  sir.     One  never  can  tell." 

"The  healthiest-looking  go  first,"  the  Large 
Person  observed  unexpectedly. 

Dr.  Frohlocken  hesitated  a  moment,  obviously 
torn  between  impatience  at  the  interruption  and 
a  sense  of  professional  duty. 

"If  you  would  wait  but  a  few  minutes — ?"  he 
suggested  doubtfully. 

Simmons  bowed. 

"By  all  means." 

"My  time  is  yours,  Doctor,"  added  Monsieur 
de  Beaulieu  graciously. 

Thus  encouraged,  but  with  considerable  ill-will, 
Dr.  Frohlocken  followed  the  stoical  James  in 
the  direction  of  his  consulting-room  and,  for  a 
time,  nothing  was  heard  but  the  distant  murmur 
of  a  woman's  voice,  interrupted  occasionally  by 
the  Doctor's  familiar  grunts  of  disapproval. 

The  three  listeners  maintained  a  gloomy  sil- 
ence. The  Large  Person,  having  lost  interest  in 
her  whilom  patient,  had  collapsed  into  the  most 
comfortable  chair,  and  the  lawyer  was  staring  in 
front  of  him  with  an  expression  which  forbade 
liberties.  The  Count  felt  he  was  suspected  in 
that  quarter  and,  warned  by  experience,  refrained 
from  touching  on  even  such  innocent  topics  as  the 
weather.  For  the  moment  the  danger  of  dis- 
covery was  averted,  but  for  how  long?  As  long, 
probably,  as  the  real  Count  chose  to  maintain  his 


66  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

mysterious  incognito.  Or,  perhaps  the  Count 
was  dead.  The  gold  pig  lying  at  the  bottom 
of  his  understudy's  waistcoat  suggested  the  glo- 
rious possibility  with  unction,  but  the  understudy 
himself  discountenanced  it.  He  felt  that  to  hope 
such  a  thing  was  indecent — almost  criminal — a 
feeling  which  he  knew  to  be  ridiculous,  but  which, 
with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  he  could  not  alto- 
gether suppress.  Anyhow,  he  had  no  grudge  to 
speak  of  against  the  genuine  Count,  and  none  at 
all  against  the  lovely  Theodora.  For  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  she  was  lovely.  The  name 
suggested  it  and  the  Count's  behaviour  proved  it. 
A  man  who  can  ramble  on  about  a  lady  on  the 
top  of  a  shipwreck  and  concussion  of  the  brain 
has  usually  method  in  his  madness.  The  bogus 
Count  fancied  her  at  that  moment  in  tears, 
weighed  down  by  grief  at  the  mysterious  loss  of 
her  lover,  and  his  heart  went  out  to  her  in  pity 
and  considerable  remorse. 

"Theodora!"  he  repeated  to  himself.  "Con- 
foundedly pretty  name !  Theodora  what,  I  won- 
der? Smith,  probably — or  perhaps  Brown!" 
Whereupon  he  smiled  ruefully. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Dr.  Frohlocken  re- 
turned. It  appeared  at  once  that  some  of  his 
scientific  detachment  had  been  lost  in  that  brief 
interview.  He  was  still  angry,  but  also  not  a 
little  moved  by  some  gentler  emotion.  He  re- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  67 

garded  No.  7  for  the  first  time  as  though  he  were 
something  more  than  an  interesting  experiment. 

"As  my  house  has  become  a  lunatic  asylum," 
he  said,  "it  is  not  inappropriate  that  mad  events 
should  take  place  in  it.  I  am  glad  to  think  that 
at  any  rate  I  have  washed  my  hands  of  all  con- 
sequences. No.  7,  Mademoiselle  Theodora  de 
Melville  awaits  you  in  my  consulting  room." 


CHAPTER  IV 

COUNT  Louis  DE  BEAULIEU  stood  with  his 
shaking  hand  upon  the  door  handle.  The  last 
few  minutes  lay  behind  him  like  hours  of  night- 
mare of  which  this  was  the  culminating  agony. 
His  utter  consternation,  mistaken  by  the  Doctor 
for  the  bewilderment  of  an  overpowering  joy,  the 
gradually  dawning  realisation  of  his  position  in  its 
new  and  hopeless  complications,  had  followed  fast 
upon  each  other,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  him  an 
eternity  since  he  had  smiled  upon  the  Large  Per- 
son and  the  dour-faced  lawyer  with  all  the  in- 
souciance of  the  budding  fatalist.  Then  the  whole 
thing  had  appeared  more  or  less  farcical — an  in- 
credible comedy  in  which  his  mental  misfortune 
played  the  chief  role.  Then  he  had,  in  some  meas- 
ure, felt  himself  a  person  of  distinction.  Now  he 
was  nothing  more  than  a  common  rogue  about  to 
face  his  judge.  And  his  judge  was  a  woman — 
that  was  the  worst  of  it — an  angry,  unhappy,  dis- 
appointed woman,  and  one  thing  was  certain  in  his 
mind,  namely,  that  in  all  his  previous  nefarious 
career  he  had  never  enjoyed  "doing"  a  woman  or 
taking  the  consequences.  Moreover,  his  nerve 

68 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  69 

was  gone.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  threw  back  his 
shoulders  and  tugged  at  his  tie  and  told  himself 
that  whatever  happened  she  couldn't  kill  him. 
He  trembled  visibly,  and  when  he  at  length  pushed 
open  the  fatal  door  he  did  so  with  much  the  same 
despairing  courage  as  that  which  drives  the  suicide 
over  the  precipice. 

He  saw  her  before  she  saw  him.  She  was 
standing  by  the  window,  her  hands  clasped  to- 
gether in  an  attitude  of  suppressed  agitation,  and 
before  she  moved  he  gathered  that  she  was  small, 
graceful  and  elegantly,  if  quietly,  dressed.  When 
she  at  length  turned  he  saw  that  she  suited  the 
name  Theodora  even  better  than  his  picture  of 
her.  He  had  no  memories  to  go  by,  but  he  could 
not  believe  that  he  had  ever  seen  anything  more 
lovely  than  her  face,  or  anything  more  charming 
than  its  bewildering  contrasts.  The  delicate  fea- 
tures and  grey  eyes  had  certainly  been  made  for 
happiness  and  their  expression  of  trouble  was  as 
piquant  as  it  was  pathetic.  Evidently  she  had 
been  crying,  and  yet  behind  the  tears  there  were 
untold  possibilities  of  mirth  and  malicious  hu- 
mour; her  fine  lips  trembled — he  could  so  easily 
have  imagined  how  they  would  twitch  with  sup- 
pressed laughter.  She  looked  at  him  steadily  and 
he  braced  his  shoulders  against  the  door  and  faced 
her  with  sullen  defiance.  But  she  neither  screamed 
nor  gave  any  sign  of  surprise.  She  came  towards 


70  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

him,  and  his  eyes  dropped.  His  defiance  was 
melting  fast  into  a  miserable  regret. 

''Please  don't  say  anything!"  he  burst  out  at 
last.  "You  can't  say  more  than  I  could  say  about 
myself.  I'm  an  utter  cad — I  suppose  I  was  born 
one — and  I've  played  you  all  a  mean  trick.  I 
know  it  and  it's  not  much  excuse  to  say  I  didn't 
mean  it.  It  was  that  Inspector — " 

"But  you  see  I  know  already — I  read  about  it 
in  the  papers,"  she  interrupted  gently.  "You  lost 
your  memory."  The  tone  of  her  voice  gave  him 
courage.  He  looked  up  at  her  again. 

"Absolutely,  I  can't  remember  a  thing.  That's 
how  it  all  started.  It's  my  only  excuse."  He 
hesitated.  "I'm  most  awfully  sorry  to  have  hurt 
you,"  he  said  huskily. 

She  smiled — a  little  woe-begone  smile  that  was 
not  without  bitterness. 

"You  couldn't  help  it,"  she  said.  "Besides — 
it's  all  over  now." 

"Yes — of  course,  it's  all  over  now — especially 
as  far  as  I  am  concerned."  He  drew  himself  up- 
right. "Anyhow — before  you  call  the  Inspec- 
tor—" 

"But  I'm  not  going  to  call  the  Inspector.  Why 
should  I  ? — not  yet  at  least." 

He  stared  at  her. 

"You  mean — good  heavens,   Mademoiselle — 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  71 

you  don't  mean  that  you  are  going  to  help  me  out 
of  this  mess?" 

"For  what  else  should  I  be  here?"  She  came 
forward  and  laid  a  white  hand  on  his  arm. 
"Aren't  you  a  little  glad  to  see  me — Louis?" 

For  a  minute  a  haze  floated  before  his  eyes. 
When  it  cleared  he  saw  a  sweet  face  close  to  his 
own,  a  pair  of  lips  which  trembled  and  yet  smiled 
at  him.  He  pressed  his  hand  to  his  head. 

"Mademoiselle — I  beg  your  pardon — I  don't 
understand — " 

"I  asked  if  you  were  not  a  little  glad  to  see  me. 
Is  that  so  very  strange  or  difficult?" 

"But — "  He  did  not  finish  his  sentence.  Like 
so  many  flashes  of  light,  a  dozen  half-formed  pos- 
sibilities passed  before  his  mind.  Was  he  in  real- 
ity the  Count?  Did  he,  by  some  extraordinary 
coincidence,  bear  that  nobleman  such  a  strong  re- 
semblance that  even  his  fiancee  was  deceived? 
Had  the  lucky  pig  miraculously  changed  him  or 
blinded  her?  Each  suggestion  seemed  equally 
unlikely  and  equally  absurd.  The  one  thing  that 
was  certain  was  Mademoiselle  Theodora  herself 
and  the  small  white  hand  resting  on  his  arm.  The 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  or  possibly  the  latent 
spirit  of  Slippery  Bill — or  possibly  something  al- 
together different — urged  him  to  take  it  and  press 
it  between  both  his  own. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  seem  very  stupid,"  he  said. 


72  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Look  upon  me  as  a  sort  of  invalid  with  whom 
one  must  have  patience.  You  see,  I  can't  remem- 
ber anything — not  a  single  detail." 

"Not  even  the  woman — you — you — " 

" — loved?"  He  shook  his  head  regretfully. 
"I'm  afraid  not.  Though,  if  it  had  the  chance, 
I  know  it  would  all  come  back."  As  he  looked 
down  into  her  face  he  winced  at  the  thought  of 
what  his  real  memories  might  consist.  "It's  in- 
fernally hard,"  he  said  with  truth  and  considerable 
force. 

"Yes,"  she  agreed,  sighing,  "very  hard."  Her 
hand  dropped  from  his  arm,  and  she  turned  away 
from  him.  He  felt  that  the  tears  were  very  near 
the  surface.  "It's  like  beginning  life  all  over 
again,"  she  went  on,  half  to  herself. 

He  nodded  ruefully. 

"For  me,  at  least.  To  all  intents  and  purposes 
I'm  a  new  born  babe.  I  don't  even  know  my  own 
name." 

"Your  name  is  Louis  de  Beaulieu." 

"So  I  am  told,  Mademoiselle,"  but  /  don't 
know." 

She  looked  at  him  keenly  and  since,  for  once 
in  a  way  and  quite  against  the  principles  of  his 
criminal  self,  he  was  telling  the  truth,  he  bore  her 
scrutiny  without  flinching. 

"Then — then  I  suppose  I  had  better  go,"  she 
said  unsteadily.  "I  would  never  have  come  if  I 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  73 

had  realised  that — that  of  course  you  would  have 
forgotten  me  too."  She  moved  towards  the  door. 
He  followed  her.  Prudence  flew  to  the  winds. 
She  was  flushed  with  humiliation,  and  he  had  hu- 
miliated her.  Here  was  a  charming  and  lovely 
woman  who  came  to  him  with  her  love  and  con- 
fidence, and  he  rebuffed  her,  insulted  her  by  tell- 
ing her  that  he  did  not  even  remember  her  exist- 
ence. That  was  too  much.  Hardened  criminal 
though  he  might  be,  Slippery  Bill  was  evidently 
chivalrous  to  the  bone.  He  interposed  himself 
firmly  between  the  lady  and  the  door. 

"Don't  go!"  he  blurted  out.  "Please  don't  go 
— not  like  that  at  any  rate.  Sit  down  and  tell  me 
all  about  everything — about  yourself  and  myself. 
It's  a  wretched  business,  but  perhaps  we  can  help 
each  other.  At  least  we  ought  to  try.  Please 
don't  punish  me  like  this." 

"I  don't  want  to  punish  you,"  she  said  gently. 
"It's  not  your  fault." 

"Well,  sit  down  then — there — by  the  fire.  Let 
me  take  off  your  furs  for  you — so.  Are  you  com- 
fortable? Is  it  too  warm  for  you?" 

She  smiled  up  into  his  eager  face  and  the  smile 
transfigured  her.  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  forgot  to 
look  away. 

"At  any  rate  you  have  remembered  how  to  be 
nice,"  she  said.  "Thank  you — I  am  very  com- 
fortable. Won't  you  sit  down — over  there?" 


74  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

The  gentle  reminder  recalled  him  to  himself 
and  he  bowed  stiffly. 

"Thank  you,  Mademoiselle — " 

"Don't  be  offended."  There  was  now  a  sus- 
picion of  genuine  laughter  in  her  grey  eyes.  "You 
see,  we  are  starting  life  all  over  again." 

"Of  course,"  he  said  decorously,  from  the  other 
side  of  the  fire-place.  "All  the  same  I  should  like 
to  know  something  of  my  pre-existence,  if  I  may 
so  call  it.  Would  you  mind  ?" 

She  did  not  answer  at  once.  She  stared  gravely 
into  the  fire  and  he  felt  with  a  sense  of  shame  that 
the  subject  must  necessarily  be  painful  to  her.  He 
bent  forward  in  an  attitude  of  confidential  friend- 
liness. 

"Let  me  help  you,"  he  said.  "I'll  begin  by 
asking  questions.  Am  I,  for  instance,  really  the 
Count  Louis  de  Beaulieu?" 

She  looked  at  him  in  quick  surprise. 

"Of  course,"  she  said. 

"And  you  are  Mademoiselle  Theodora  de  Mel- 
ville?" 

She  nodded  without  speaking  and  he  hesitated, 
knowing  that  he  was  near  delicate  ground,  yet 
desperately  anxious  to  know  more. 

"I  know  I  sound  like  an  inquisitor,"  he  went 
on  humbly,  "but  you  must  have  patience  with  me. 
You  can  treat  me  as  a  sort  of  harmless  lunatic  if 
you  like,  but  remember  that  you  are  the  only  per- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  75 

son  who  can  help  me.  Won't  you  tell  me  some- 
thing more — tell  me,  for  instance,  where  you 
live?" 

"I  lived  in  France,"  she  said,  with  a  faint 
emphasis  on  the  past  tense. 

"Was  it  there  that  we — er — first  met?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  and  blushed.  The  blush  was 
distracting.  De  Beaulieu  fingered  his  eyeglass 
nervously. 

"Was  that  very  long  ago?" 

"Five  years." 

"And  we  saw  each  other  very  often,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"Oh,  no."  She  looked  at  him  with  puzzled 
brows.  "We  only  knew  each  other  for  a  week. 
It  was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight.  Then  you 
went  away  to  make  your  fortune." 

He  nodded  gravely.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
here  lay  a  possible  clue  to  the  mystery.  A  week 
is  a  short  time  to  remember  and  five  years  a  long 
time  in  which  to  forget.  A  faint  resemblance 
might  easily  develop,  backed  by  circumstance,  into 
something  more  definite. 

"I  understood — er — that  we  were — were — are 
— engaged?"  he  ventured  cautiously. 

Her  eyes  returned  to  the  fire. 

"But  certainly."  For  the  first  time  he  detected 
a  foreign  nuance  in  her  speech  and  manner.  "We 


N 


76  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

were  engaged  but  my  father  objected.  He  turned 
you  out  of  our  house." 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  drew  himself  up.  It  an- 
noyed him  to  find  that  he  was  still  saddled  with  a 
doubtful  character. 

"Why?    Did  they  object  to  me?" 

"You  had  no  money — in  those  days,"  she  an- 
swered with  a  faint  smile.  "And  they  said  that 
you  were — well,  just  a  little  wild." 

It  was  no  use  feeling  aggrieved.  A  man  with 
Slippery  Bill's  record  might  be  thankful  to  come 
off  so  lightly.  "Apparently  you  overcame  their — 
prejudices,  however?"  he  suggested. 

She  threw  back  her  head  with  a  fascinating 
movement  of  defiance. 

"Indeed  not!"  she  said. 

"Then,  Mademoiselle,  I'm  afraid  I  really  don't 
understand  how  you  came  here." 

"I  ran  away." 

"From  your  parents?" 

"I  was  very  unhappy,"  she  said,  almost  in  a 
whisper. 

"Yes — but  surely — wasn't  it  very  unwise?" 

Her  lips  twitched. 

"You  were  in  New  York,"  she  said,  "and  you 
wrote  to  me." 

"Well?" 

"Well— then  I  ran  away." 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  77 

He  rose  slowly  from  his  chair,  as  though  im- 
pelled by  an  irresistible  force. 

"You  ran  away — where  to?" 

"To  England." 

"What— what  for?" 

Her  eyes  avoided  his.    Her  blush  deepened. 

"I  would  rather  not  say." 

"I  insist.  I  must  know.  Why  did  you  come 
to  England?" 

She  looked  at  him  again — this  time  with  re- 
solve and  a  faint  flicker  of  laughter  in  her  eyes. 

"You  insist?"  she  asked. 

"I  insist." 

"Well  then — I  came  to  England  to  marry  you." 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  sat  down  again.  The 
movement  had  been  a  compulsory  one.  His  knees 
had  given  way  under  him. 

"And — and  your  parents?"  he  began  feebly. 

"By  this  time  they  have  discarded  me." 

"Good  heavens!"  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you,"  she  went  on,  "but 
you  made  me,  and  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  that 
you  should  know  the  truth.  Of  course,  now  the 
circumstances  have  altered  everything,  and  you 
are  quite,  quite  free.  Here  are  your  letters." 

She  opened  a  dainty  reticule  and  produced  a 
packet  tied  with  blue  ribbons  which  he  accepted 
gingerly.  He  looked  at  the  contents  and  his  last 
hope  faded.  The  writing  was  utterly  unlike  his 


78  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

own  secret  experiments  in  that  direction.  It  was 
a  very  simple,  clerk-like  hand,  easy  to  imitate,  as 
his  criminal  self  immediately  noted,  and  though 
the  Doctor,  who  had  theories  on  the  subject  of 
mental  troubles,  would  never  have  recognised  the 
discrepancies  as  evidence,  the  Rogue  himself  felt 
that  the  testimony  of  the  little  gold  pig  in  his 
waistcoat  pocket  had  been  amply  confirmed.  Had 
he  not  the  right  to  ignore  the  pig  and  accept  a 
situation  into  which  he  had  been  pitchforked  by 
circumstances  and  a  handful  of  determined  luna- 
tics? He  glanced  across  at  his  companion.  Her 
head  was  bowed.  He  fancied  that  there  were 
tears  on  her  cheeks. 

"May  I  read  these?"  he  asked  uncertainly. 

"Why  not — since  they  are  yours?" 

He  untied  the  bundle.  Some  of  the  letters 
were  in  French,  some  in  an  English  freely  be- 
sprinkled with  Americanisms,  all  of  them  were 
tender.  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu's  knowledge  of 
French  proved  to  be  limited  but  he  guessed  suc- 
cessfully at  "ma  bien-aimee"  ;  "mon  ange" ;  "je 
t* adore,"  and  the  signature,  "Louis  de  Beaulieu," 
was  unmistakable.  He  ground  his  teeth. 

"What  an  utter  scoundrel!"  he  said  aloud. 

Mademoiselle  Theodora  opened  her  eyes  wide. 

"Who?"  she  asked. 

"The  Count — I  mean — of  course — I  mean 
what  an  utter  scoundrel  I  should  be  if  I  were — 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  79 

no,  that's  not  what  I  meant  either.  In  plain  lan- 
guage— it  was  a  scoundrelly  thing  to  have  written 
to  you  like  that  and  then  have  left  you — well,  like 
this." 

"But  you  couldn't  help  it,"  she  protested.  "You 
lost  your  memory." 

"Exactly.  But  if  I  hadn't  lost  my  memory  I 
should  be  a  scoundrel,  shouldn't  I?" 

She  nodded  in  puzzled  assent. 

"I  should  deserve  anything — I  should  deserve 
to  lose  you  and — er — anything  else  that  happened 
to  belong  to  me,  shouldn't  I?" 

"You  would  certainly  lose  me,"  she  said  with 
conviction. 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  adjusted  his  eyeglass 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  sees  his  way  clear. 

"Then  it  seems  to  me  that  we  can  go  ahead 
without  compunction,"  he  remarked.  "Theo- 
dora—" 

She  rose. 

"I  have  the  honour  to  wish  you  good-morning, 
Count." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"That,  my  friend,  is  no  longer  your  affair." 

"Excuse  me!"  He  rose  and  faced  her.  "I 
have  been  thinking  it  over,"  he  said  slowly  and 
distinctly.  "It's  too  long  a  business  to  start  life 


80  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

all  over  again.  If  you  have  no  objection  we  will 
begin  where  we  left  off,  Theodora." 

She  drew  back.  The  colour  faded  from  her 
cheeks. 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  stupid,"  she  said. 

"I  mean — I  may  be  forgetful  but  I  am  very 
impressionable." 

She  smiled  ironically. 

"You  are  very  chivalrous,"  she  retorted. 

"Then  you  don't  believe  in  love  at  first  sight 
after  all?"  he  asked. 

"I  believe  that  you  are  trying  to  be  generous, 
Good-morning,  Count!" 

She  tried  to  pass  him  but  he  caught  her  hands 
and  held  them. 

"You  are  not  going  till  you  have  heard  me 
out.  You  say  I  am  the  Count  de  Beaulieu.  Well, 
I  take  your  word  for  it.  You  say  you  are  Made- 
moiselle de  Melville,  my  fiancee.  Well,  I  take 
your  word  for  that  too.  So  we're  quits.  As 
you  are  engaged  to  me  I  presume  you  must  love 
me.  Will  you  marry  me?" 

"Marry  you?"  she  echoed. 

"This  very  day!"  he  said  recklessly. 

She  turned  her  back  to  him  as  though  to  hide 
her  face. 

"I  repeat — you  are  generous,  Count." 

"And  I  swear  to  you  that  I  have  never  loved 
another  woman — at  least  if  I  have  I  can't  remem- 


Si 

her  it — and  I  promise  you  that  I  will  never  love 
another.  I  can't  say  more." 

She  frowned. 

"You  would  have  been  wiser  if  you  had  said 
less,  Count,"  she  said.  "Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth? 
You  are  impelled  by  two  motives — firstly  by  your 
sense  of  duty  and  secondly  by  your  susceptibility 
to  a  pretty  face.  For  the  first  I  admire  you,  for 
the  second  I  despise  you,  and  for  your  offer  I 
thank  you.  And  so — good  morning." 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  held  his  ground,  though 
he  flushed. 

"We  will  leave  love  and  duty  out  of  the  mat- 
ter," he  said.  "Let  us  call  it  a  'mariage  de  con- 
venance.'  " 

She  seemed  to  take  no  exception  to  his  French. 
She  stopped  short  and  looked  at  him  with  a  sud- 
den attention. 

"Explain !"  she  commanded. 

"I  mean  just  this — if  you  won't  have  me  I 
doubt  if  anyone  ever  will.  I  don't  seem  to  have 
a  friend  or  a  relation  in  the  world.  From  my 
point  of  view  it  would  be  a  charitable  act  to  marry 
me.  As  for  you — well,  you  admit  yourself  that 
he — I — we  have  put  you  into  a  decidedly  awk- 
ward position." 

"Do  you  think  I  would  marry  you  out  of  fear 
for  myself?"  she  asked,  white  with  anger. 


82  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Surely  my  forgetfulness  has  not  cost  me  all 
your  affection?"  he  pleaded  pathetically. 

"We  will  leave  affection  out  of  the  matter," 
she  mimicked. 

"Very  well — as  a  matter  of  convenience  then." 

She  stood  silent,  evidently  at  war  with  conflict- 
ing emotions,  and  he  waited  patiently.  He  had 
surreptitiously  taken  the  Lucky  Pig  from  his 
pocket  and  was  squeezing  it  with  a  new  fervour 
of  beHef  in  its  miraculous  powers.  For  once  in  a 
way  his  conscience  was  mute.  If  he  was  the 
Count  than  he  was  doing  the  right  thing;  and  if 
he  was,  as  he  had  every  reason  to  suspect,  no  other 
than  William  Brown,  commonly  known  as  Slip- 
pery Bill,  then  he  was  acting  like  a  rogue,  which 
was  all  that  could  be  expected  of  him.  As  for 
Theodora — it  was  her  fault  if  she  could  not  tell 
her  lover  from  his  double,  and  anyhow,  in  his 
opinion,  she  had  made  a  profitable  exchange. 

So  he  waited,  and  presently  she  looked  at  him 
with  a  softened  rather  tremulous  smile. 

"Perhaps,  Count — "  she  began. 

"My  name  is  Louis,"  he  interrupted.  "You 
told  me  so  yourself." 

"Perhaps  then,  Louis — "     She  hesitated. 

"You  consent?"  he  asked. 

"We  are  rather  like  two  lost  children,"  she 
said  sadly.  "Perhaps,  as  you  say,  we  had  better 
join  forces — if  it  is  possible." 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  83 

"Instinct  tells  me  that  there  are  such  things 
as  special  licenses,"  he  answered  joyfully. 

"And  you  understand — it  is  and  remains  a  mat- 
ter of  convenience?" 

"Until  further  orders,  Theodora." 

She  smiled  faintly. 

"My  name,  at  least,  seems  to  be  becoming  fa- 
miliar to  you,"  she  said. 

"I  think,"  he  returned,  "that  there  are  some 
things  which  will  come  back  to  me  very  quickly." 

"It's  a  bargain  then?" 

"A  solemn  league  and  covenant." 

She  gave  him  her  hand.  He  kissed  it  and  she 
drew  back  with  a  proud  offended  gesture. 

"That  is  not  necessary,  Monsieur." 

"After  all,  you  did  love  me,"  he  returned  re- 
proachfully. "You  have  not  forgotten." 

"Such  things  must  be  mutual." 

"Tell  me.  Didn't  I  fall  in  love  with  you  the 
first  hour  I  saw  you?" 

She  flushed  deeply. 

"You  said  so.  Pray  let  us  rejoin  your  friends, 
Monsieur." 

He  held  open  the  door  for  her. 

"It  seems  I  have  not  changed  at  all,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  V 

NOT  very  far  from  an  unfashionable  part  of 
London,  commonly  known  as  Whitechapel,  there 
is  a  dirty  little  street  which  serves  as  a  means 
of  communication  between  two  larger  and  more 
populous  thoroughfares.  In  this  region  there  are 
many  dirty  little  streets,  so  that  the  description 
would  be  scarcely  adequate  were  it  not  added 
that  Herbert — or  'Urbert  Street  to  use  the  local 
designation — was  by  far  and  away  the  dirtiest, 
narrowest  and  most  evil-smelling  of  them  all.  In 
the  day  time  it  gave  the  impression  of  being 
wholly  deserted — not  so  much  as  an  urchin  en- 
livened its  unsavoury  gutters — but  towards  eve- 
ning there  was  a  change  which  altered  the  whole 
character  of  the  place.  Dark  figures  slunk  out 
of  unlighted  doorways  and  little  mysterious 
groups  formed  themselves  well  out  of  reach  of 
the  lamp  light — scattering  precipitately  in  all  di- 
rections as  a  couple  of  stalwart  constables  prome- 
naded down  the  centre  of  the  narrow  roadway. 
In  a  word — 'Urbert  Street  had  a  reputation  which 
put  Seven  Dials  to  shame,  and  successfully  saved 
it  from  the  tender  administrations  of  amateur 

84 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  85 

"slumbers"  and  "Lady  Beneficents"  who  were 
rumoured  to  haunt  the  more  respectable  regions. 
Even  the  constables  hunted  in  couples,  a  few  un- 
pleasant little  incidents  having  proved  that  it  was 
unhealthy  even  for  six  foot  of  Yorkshire  manhood 
to  appear  unchaperoned,  and  "swells"  were  natu- 
rally unknown.  Consequently,  the  appearance  of 
a  tall,  well-dressed  young  man  who  drove  up  to 
the  corner  in  a  taxi,  would  have  caused  a  sensa- 
tion had  the  usual  habitues  been  there  to  wit- 
ness it.  For  reasons  best  known  to  themselves, 
however,  the  inhabitants  shunned  the  light  of 
day  and  the  only  living  object  was  a  curious  look- 
ing individual  who  was  leaning  up  against  a  lamp- 
post, staring  blankly  a-t  nothing  in  particular.  The 
well-dressed  young  man  paid  his  taximan  who, 
having  eyed  him  and  the  proffered  pound  note 
with  equal  suspicion,  turned  his  vehicle  and  drove 
off  with  as  much  speed  as  was  consistent  with  dig- 
nity. His  recent  "hire"  waited  a  moment  and, 
after  referring  to  a  newspaper  cutting,  made  his 
way  slowly  down  the  left  side  of  the  street.  Evi- 
dently he  was  looking  for  a  number,  but  numbers 
had  long  ago  been  discarded  in  a  region  where  the 
tenants  changed  their  place  of  residence  too  often 
and  too  suddenly  to  make  an  address  of  any  great 
value.  A  fruitless  wandering  brought  the  un- 
usual visitor  back  to  his  starting  point.  The 
quaint  figure  in  the  check  suit  was  still  leaning  in 


86  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

the  same  attitude  against  the  lamp-post  and  the 
young  man  of  immaculate  appearance,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  went  up  to  him  and  lifted  his 
hat. 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  which  is  No.  10?" 
he  asked  courteously. 

The  person  thus  addressed  gave  not  the  slight- 
est sign  of  having  heard.  His  gaze  continued  as 
blank  and  idiotic  as  before  and  the  enquirer  re- 
peated his  question  in  a  louder  and  more  deter- 
mined key. 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  which  is  No.  10?" 
he  said,  and  supplemented  the  appeal  with  a  light 
tap  on  the  shoulder.  The  check-suited  one  there- 
upon slowly  brought  his  eyes  down  to  the  level 
of  the  speaker's  face  and  as  slowly  uncrossed  his 
legs  and  unfolded  his  arms. 

"Now  then,  young  spark!"  he  drawled,  with 
an  indescribable  accent  which  savoured  about 
equally  of  Whitechapel  and  New  York.  "You 
stop  that  or  you'll  find  yourself  in  Queer  Street. 
Can't  you  let  a  fellow  sleep?" 

The  young  man  smiled.  "I  didn't  know  you 
were  asleep,"  he  said.  "Your  eyes  were  wide 
open." 

"The  blighter  who  goes  to  sleep  with  his  eyes 
shut  in  these  parts  deserves  all  that's  coming  to 
him,"  was  the  sententious  answer.  "The  trick  is 
to  look  as  wide  awake  as  an  ol'  clothes  man  even 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  87 

if  you're  as  sleepy  as  a  dormouse.  What's  your 
wants,  young  man?" 

The  stranger  referred  to  the  newspaper  cut- 
ting. 

"I  want  No.  10,"  he  said;  "but  I  can't  find  any 
number  of  any  sort.  Would  you  perhaps  inform 
me—" 

"Now,  don't  begin  your  little  yarn  all  over 
again,"  the  little  man  in  the  check  suit  interrupted. 
"If  you  hadn't  landed  on  a  soft  hearted  little  bit 
of  goods  like  me  all  that  parlez-vouing  would  have 
cost  you  your  hat.  Say,  'Where's  No.  10. — or 
I'll  punch  your  head  till  your  own  loving  mother 
won't  know  you'  and  we'll  get  to  business." 

The  stranger  laughed. 

"When  I've  done  punching  your  head  you  won't 
know  No.  10  from  No.  1000,"  he  said  genially, 
"so  for  both  our  sakes  you'd  better  hurry  up  and 
tell  me  what  I  want  before  it's  too  late." 

The  man  by  the  lamp-post  rubbed  his  hands, 
tilted  his  brimless  hat  to  the  back  of  his  close 
cropped  head  and  winked. 

"That's  the  spirit!"  he  said.  "My,  though! 
You  are  a  sight!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon — ?"  In  accents  of  some 
offence. 

"In  polite  language — you're  a  highly  coloured 
one.  No.  10  will  fall  flat  when  it  sees  you."  The 
little  man  produced  a  packet  of  doubtful  looking 


88  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

cigars  and,  selecting  one,  bit  off  the  end  with  pre- 
cision. "I  doubt  if  No.  10  has  seen  a  clean  collar 
this  side  of  1900,"  he  went  on  meditatively,  "and 
for  friendship's  sake  I  reckon  I  oughtn't  to  expose 
it  to  the  shock.  Just  put  up  your  coat,  will  you, 
and  give  your  hat  a  tilt  and  then  we'll  get  along." 

The  young  man  obeyed,  though  somewhat  re- 
luctantly, and  the  results  of  his  alterations  appear- 
ing to  give  satisfaction,  the  curiously  assorted  pair 
started  down  the  street  in  search  of  No.  10.  The 
check-suited  Cicerone  sauntered  on  ahead,  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  the  cigar  sticking  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  mouth,  his  swagger  suggesting  that 
what  didn't  belong  to  him  in  'Urbert  Street  didn't 
count  for  much.  The  young  man  followed  him 
with  an  amateur  appearance  of  rakishness,  which 
in  his  present  company  and  surroundings  was  de- 
cidedly ineffectual.  Half  way  down  the  street  his 
new  acquaintance  glanced  over  his  shoulder. 

"What's  your  game  at  No.  10?"  he  asked. 
"You  haven't  mistaken  it  for  the  Ritz,  have  you? 
All  the  palatial  apartments  down  this  avenue  have 
been  taken  by  the  nobility  months  ago." 

"I'm  not  looking  for  apartments,"  the  young 
man  replied  uneasily.  "I'm  looking  for — er — a 
certain  Mrs.  Jubbers." 

"Wall,  I  guess  you're  not  the  only  one  whose 
looking  for  her,"  was  the  cryptic  answer.  "Old 
friend,  eh?" 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  89 

"Er — I  hope  not — I  meant — I  don't  know — 
not  exactly.  It's  a  sort  of  er — business  affair — " 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Innocent.  I  don't  want 
to  know  your  secrets.  What's  your  title  anyhow? 
I  know  Mrs.  Jubbers  like  I  know  my  own  mother, 
and  I'd  better  introduce  you  as  something  or 
other." 

The  visitor  arranged  his  tie  nervously. 

"You  can  call  me — er — Harris,"  he  said. 

"Couldn't  you  make  it  a  lord?"  his  companion 
suggested.  "Mrs.  Jubbers  is  a  trifle  particular, 
as  you  might  say." 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  oblige — for  the  present  I'm 
just  plain  Harris." 

"Oh  come,  it's  not  as  bad  as  that!  Never 
mind,  I'll  make  you  into  a  Book  incog.  She  won't 
believe  me  anyhow.  My  name's  Washington 
Jones,  sometime  American  Citizen — at  present  en- 
joying a  rest  cure.  Kindly  step  this  way,  Your 
Grace." 

He  pushed  open  the  door  of  one  of  the  dirtiest 
dwellings  and  led  the  way  down  a  narrow  passage 
with  the  air  of  being  very  much  at  home.  The 
young  man  who  called  himself  Harris  followed 
meekly,  and  a  moment  later  the  pair  were  brought 
to  a  halt  by  a  door  which  was  locked  on  the  inside. 
Washington  Jones  whistled  twice  and,  after  a 
short  delay,  the  key  was  turned  and  the  two  visi- 
tors found  themselves  in  a  low-ceilinged  room 


90  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

whose  atmosphere  was  at  that  moment  almost 
opaque  with  the  fumes  of  bad  tobacco. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Jubbers,"  Washington  Jones 
said  loudly  and  distinctly,  "permit  me  to  present 
an  old  friend  of  mine  to  you, — The  Dook  of 
Harrisville — just  arrived  from  the  Continong. 
My  dear  Dook,  this  is  Mrs.  Jubbers,  whose  ac- 
quaintance you  are  so  anxious  to  make." 

The  newly  created  "Dook"  bowed  to  a  stout 
slovenly  dressed  old  woman  who  had  loomed  out 
of  the  clouds  of  smoke  and  now  advanced  upon 
him  with  a  tottering  step.  She  had  only  one  eye 
— the  other,  judging  from  appearances,  had  been 
lost  in  honourable  warfare — but  the  remaining 
orb  was  extraordinarily  bright  and  none  too 
friendly.  It  flashed  over  the  "Dock's"  person 
with  a  rapidity  that  seemed  to  take  in  every  detail 
from  the  pearl  scarf-pin  downwards. 

"Very  'appy  to  meet  'is  Grace,"  she  said  with 
a  suspicious  leer.  "Mr.  Jones'  friends  are  always 
welcome.  Take  a  seat,  me  lord."  She  proffered 
a  chair,  of  whose  four  legs  only  three  could  be 
safely  counted  on,  and  wiped  the  seat.  "We're 
'umble  folk,  your  Grace,"  she  mumbled  on,  "but 
wery  'onest  and  wot  we  'ave  we  gladly  shares  with 
others.  Make  yourself  at  'ome."  During  this 
speech  the  bright  eye  had  been  shooting  wireless 
telegrams  at  Washington  Jones,  who  winked  sig- 
nificantly. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  91 

"His  Grace  has  come  on  vury  important  busi- 
ness," he  said.  "Shouldn't  be  surprised  if  it  was 
something  in  your  line,  Mrs.  Jubbers." 

The  "Dook"  coughed  again — either  out  of  ner- 
vousness or  because  the  atmosphere  was  getting 
too  much  for  him. 

"Er — yes — I  have  come  on  business,"  he  ad- 
mitted. "In  fact,  it  is  such  important  business 
that  I'm  afraid  I  must  ask  for  a  private  interview. 
I'm  sure  Mr.  Jones  will  understand  when  I  say 
that  the  happiness  of  more  than  one  person  hangs 
in  the  balance." 

The  American  Citizen  raised  an  eyebrow  and 
waved  his  hand,  expressing  thereby  both  interest 
and  comprehension  for  the  delicacy  of  the  situa- 
tion. 

"Why,  sure,"  he  agreed.  "Say  the  word,  sir, 
and  yours  truly  will  be  gone  in  the  twinkle  of  an 
eye." 

"Mr.  Jones  is  an  old  friend,"  Mrs.  Jubbers 
interposed  sharply.  "There  ain't  nothing  wot 
consens  me  wot  'e  cawn't  'ear.  Just  you  sit  tight, 
Mr.  Jones." 

Mr.  Jones  obediently  "sat  tight,"  though  evi- 
dently undesirous  of  seeming  to  intrude,  and  the 
"Dook"  fidgeted  uneasily. 

"Can  I  rely — er — upon  your  entire  discretion?" 
he  asked  at  last. 

"I  am  sometimes   an  American   Citizen   and 


92  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

always  a  man  of  honour,"  returned  Washington 
Jones.  "You  can  trust  me  like  yourself,  sir." 

The  "Dook's"  smile  was  a  trifle  rueful. 

"As  a  matter  of  a  fact  I  came  here  after  having 
come  across  this  newspaper  cutting,"  he  began  at 
last.  "If  you  wouldn't  mind  glancing  over  it  you 
will  see  how  I  came  to  know  your  name." 

"You  can  read  out  wot  it  says,"  Mrs.  Jubbers 
retorted  gloomily.  "I  ain't  got  no  time  for  mak- 
ing out  that  sort  o'  rubbish." 

"It's  an — er — police-court  report,"  the  "Book" 
explained  with  increasing  nervousness.  "I  will 
quote — er — strictly.  'Henrietta  Jubbers,  said  to 
be  of  No.  10,  Herbert  Street,  E.  C.  and  already 
familiar  to  the  public  in  connection  with  the  no- 
torious swindler  William  Brown,  was  charged  yes- 
terday before  Mr.  James  Hawley  with  drunken- 
ness and  disorder — ' ' 

"Look  'ere,  young  man,"  Mrs.  Jubbers  inter- 
rupted, her  clenched  first  within  an  inch  of  her 
visitor's  nose,  "if  you're  one  o'  them  tee-totlars 
or  Prisoner's  Friends  you  can  take  yourself  off — " 

"But  I'm  not,"  the  "Dook"  protested  vigor- 
ously. 

"Well,  wot's  it  got  to  do  with  you  if  I  gets 
'awled  up  before  the  beak?  Ain't  it  enough  to 
'ave  one's  fizzical  weaknesses  mistook  by  a  bloom- 
in'  cop  wot  doesn't  know  when  a  lidy  'as  a  fainting 
fit,  without  a  lot  of  busybodies  acomin'  in  after- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  93 

wards  with  their  notebooks  and  noospapers?  You 
clear  out — you — !" 

"But  I  don't  care  a  brass  farthing  for  all  that !" 
the  "Book"  insisted.  "It  isn't  you  I  have  come 
about.  It's  the  other  part  of  the  business.  It 
says  here  that  you  are  connected  with  William 
Brown,  and  that's  why  I  want  to  meet  you,  Mrs. 
Jubbers." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Mrs.  Jubbers 
was  studying  her  visitor  with  all  the  intensity  of 
her  one  bright  eye,  and  her  toothless  mouth  was 
pursed  up  into  a  very  dubious  expression. 

"Look  'ere,  Mr.  Book,"  she  said  slowly.  "I 
don't  much  care  for  the  looks  of  you — and  that's 
the  truth.  Fine  gents  of  your  sort  don't  come  our 
way,  and  when  they  do  we  scents  mischief.  If 
you're  a  bloomin'  tec  you'd  better  clear  out  'fore  I 
calls  me  friends  in  the  next  room — " 

"I'm  not  what  you  call  a  'tec,'  "  the  "Book"  in- 
terrupted with  despairing  firmness.  "I'm  in  a 
tight  and  uncomfortable  hole  and  want  to  get  out 
of  it  if  I  can.  I'll  make  this  much  clear  right 
away — I  haven't  anything  to  do  with  the  police 
and  I  don't  want  to  have.  They're  the  last  people 
I  want  to  meet  at  the  present  moment." 

His  earnestness,  combined  with  an  expression 
of  genuine  distress,  carried  partial  conviction. 
Mr.  Washington  Jones  twisted  his  features  into  a 
non-committal  grimace. 


94  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"If  you  take  my  advice  you'll  talk  out  straight, 
sir,"  he  said.  "If  you  want  a  house  broke  or  a 
friend  doped  you  can  say  so  and  we  shan't  be 
shocked,  we've  sympathy  for  those  little  human 
weaknesses,  haven't  we,  Mrs.  Jubbers?" 

Mrs.  Jubbers  assented  with  a  nod  of  her  un- 
tidy head,  but  the  "Book's"  distress  appeared  to 
increase. 

"I  don't  want  anything  of  that  sort,"  he  said. 
"I  simply  want  to  find  out  if  you  know  William 
Brown  who  I  believe  goes  under  the  alias  of  Slip- 
pery Bill.  I  assure  you  the  matter  is  of  the  ut- 
most importance  to  me." 

Mrs.  Jubbers  considered.  She  was  evidently 
considering  very  earnestly  indeed,  for  her  eye  had 
become  positively  piercing. 

"I  don't  know  wot  you  mean  by  'aliasses',"  she 
said  at  last,  "but  I  know  of  a  fellow  called  Slip- 
pery Bill.  I  don't  know  'im"  she  added  hastily, 
"there  aren't  many  who  do — and  I  don't  know 
where  'e  is  either." 

"But  you  said  when  you  gave  evidence  that  he 
carried  a  talisman  with  him  by  which  he  could  be 
identified." 

Mrs.  Jubbers  glanced  uneasily  about  the  room. 

"  'E  'ad  something  of  that  sort,"  she  admitted, 
"a  kind  of  charm — 'is  Lucky  Pig  'e  called  it.  'E 
always  'ad  it  with  'im,  so  they  say.  'E  said  it 
kept  the  cops  off." 


95 

The  "Dook"  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
drew  out  a  minute  object  between  his  finger  and 
thumb. 

"Is  that  it?"  he  said  faintly. 

Mrs.  Jubbers  drew  nearer.  It  was  a  small  gold 
pig  such  as  ladies  have  been  known  to  wear  on 
their  bracelets,  with  a  curly  tail  and  peculiarly 
staring  eyes — to  all  appearances  a  harmless 
enough  ornament.  But  it  caused  Mrs.  Jubbers  to 
utter  a  croaking  exclamation  and  the  "Dook"  was. 
actually  trembling. 

"That's  it,"  Mrs.  Jubbers  said  emphatically.  "I 
couldn't  mistake  it.  I  sawed  it  once — never  you 
mind  where — and  I'd  know  it  among  a  hundred  of 
'em.  I  don't  believe  there's  another  pig  with  a 
look  like  that  in  all  London." 

"Then  it's  true!"  said  the  "Dook"  under  his 
breath. 

Mrs.  Jubbers  and  Mr.  Washington  Jones 
stared  at  him.  The  perspiration  had  broken  out 
on  his  forehead  and  his  pleasant  face  was  per- 
fectly colourless. 

"Look  here,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "you'd  better 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  What's  the  matter 
with  you?" 

The  "Dook"  passed  his  handkerchief  over  his 
face. 

"That's  the  matter  with  me,"  he  said,  pointing 


96  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

a  trembling  finger  at  the  pig  which  was  now  lying 
on  the  table.  "That  pig  is  mine." 

"Lor' !"  from  Mrs.  Jubbers. 

"Holy  Jimjams !"  from  Mr.  Washington  Jones. 

"Looks  nasty  for  someone,"  Mrs.  Jubbers  re- 
flected. Her  siriisterly  alert  eye  expressed  close 
mental  concentration.  "Seems  to  me,"  she  went 
on,  "if  that  there  pig  belongs  to  you — " 

"I  don't  know  that  it  does — "  the  "Book"  inter- 
posed hastily.  "I  only  found  it — I  mean — it  was 
in  my  pocket — "  he  floundered.  He  was  aware 
that  his  audience  had  exchanged  a  significant 
glance,  and  that  he  had  already  hopelessly  com- 
promised himself.  "You  see,  the  terrible  position 
I'm  in,"  he  said. 

"  'Orrible,"  said  Mrs.  Jubbers. 

"You — "  said  Washington  Jones  pointing  his 
finger,  "are  the  French  Count  who  was  found  on 
a  doctor's  doorstep.  I  know  all  about  you,  sir. 
A  case  of  loss  of  memory,  eh  what!" 

The  "Book"  nodded,  conscious  that  the  less  he 
said  the  better. 

"No  clue,  eh?" 

"Except  the  pig,  it  seems,"  Mrs.  Jubbers  re- 
marked. 

She  stood  with  her  arms  akimbo.  Her  eyelid 
had  dropped  a  little  over  her  eye  giving  her  an 
expression  of  extraordinary  cunning. 

"I  tell  you  wot  it  is,"  she  said.     "There's  only 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  97 

one  man  'oos  bound  to  know  what  you  are  or 
what  you  aren't  and  that's  Slippery  Bill's  own 
brother,  Garge.  'E's  in  the  'ouse  at  this  very  mo- 
ment. I'll  go  an'  ask  'im  to  come  and  'ave  a  look 
at  you." 

"Please  don't  bother  him!"  the  young  man 
begged,  evidently  grown  anxious  to  postpone  the 
decisive  moment,  but  Mrs.  Jubbers  was  obdurate. 

"  'E'll  be  mighty  glad,"  she  said.  "  'E's  been 
worritting  about  Bill  till  I  thought  'e'd  go  off  his 
nut;  powerful  fond  of  Bill,  is  Garge.  Now  just 
you  wait  quietly  there  whilst  I  bring  'im  along." 

The  "Dook"  waited.  There  was  indeed  nothing 
else  for  him  to  do  as  Mr.  Washington  Jones  was 
leaning  against  the  door  which  led  out  on  to  the 
passage  and  showed  not  the  slightest  intention  of 
moving.  There  was  an  awkward  pause.  The 
visitor  began  to  pace  restlessly  about  the  room 
and  the  American  Citizen  watched  him  through 
the  thickening  clouds  of  tobacco. 

"Queer  thing  that  I  should  have  spotted  you  as 
a  'Dook',"  he  said  presently.  "Of  course  I 
notched  you  a  point  too  high  but  I've  a  first  rate 
nose  for  blue  blood.  What's  your  name,  Count?" 

"Beaulieu,"  the  unhappy  nobleman  answered, 
"but  don't  talk  about  it.  It  haunts  me." 

Mr.  Washington  Jones  gave  vent  to  a  sound 
which  might  have  passed  for  a  laugh. 

"Wall,  I  guess  you  might  be  haunted  by  worse, 


98  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

dear  boy,"  he  said.     "What  price  'Slippery  Bill' 


The  young  man  made  a  gesture  of  despair  but 
he  had  no  opportunity  to  give  further  expression 
to  his  feelings  for  at  that  moment  the  door 
opened.  Mrs.  Jubbers  entered  followed  by  a  tall 
flashily  dressed  individual  whose  face,  as  soon  as 
he  perceived  the  visitor,  lit  up  with  a  bewilder- 
ment and  ecstasy  which  should  have  been  highly 
flattering  but,  instead,  appeared  to  cause  the  sup- 
posed Count  de  Beaulieu  considerable  alarm.  He 
retreated  precipitately  before  the  newcomer's 
eager  advance. 

"My  dear  brother!"  the  latter  said,  husky  with 
emotion.  "My  dear,  dear  brother  1" 

It  was  a  touching  scene.  The  Count  sank  feebly 
on  the  unsteady  chair  whilst  his  new-found  rela- 
tion bent  over  him  and  clasped  his  hand  with  emo- 
tional fervour. 

"And  to  think  that  I'd  given  you  up  for  lawst," 
Slippery  Bill's  brother  went  on  brokenly.  "To 
think  all  the  time  I  was  'alf  mad  with  grief  you 
was  lahdy-dahding  it  as  a  bloomin'  Count  !  Ain't 
that  enough  to  wring  tears  out  of  a  beak?  Ain't 
that  tragic?" 

"Yes,"  the  prodigal  one  admitted  faintly. 

"And  you  don't  seem  a  bit  pleased!"  George 
observed  with  a  gentle  note  of  reproach.  "Aren't 
you  glad  to  see  your  brother  again,  Bill?" 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  99 

The  Count  looked  up. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,"  he  said.  "I  thought  Mrs. 
Jubbers  had  told  you — I've  lost  my  memory.  I 
can't  remember  anybody — not  even  myself.  It 
was  a  blow  on  the  head  that  did  it." 

"One  of  those  nasty  cops,"  George  remarked 
sympathetically.  "And  when  you  came  round  you 
found  you  was  a  Count.  Now  ain't  that  luck." 

"Luck!"  said  Mrs.  Jubbers  solemnly.  "It's 
genius!" 

George  nodded. 

"You  always  did  land  on  your  feet,  Bill,"  he 
said.  "Fancy  you — regular  toff  with  'caps  of  dibs. 
I  'ope  you  'ave  'caps  of  dibs,  brother?" 

"The  Count  de  Beaulieu  has,"  the  prodigal 
answered  heavily.  "I  haven't."  He  picked  up 
the  Lucky  Pig  and  put  it  back  in  his  pocket. 
"Well,  there's  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  back  and 
own  up,"  he  said  with  a  cheerless  little  laugh. 

"Wot?"  The  exclamation  came  in  the  same 
breath  from  George  and  Mrs.  Jubbers.  Mr. 
Washington  Jones  looked  mildly  amused.  Mrs. 
Jubbers  threw  up  her  hands. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  are  goin'  to  make 
a  fool  of  yourself  like  that!"  she  said. 

"Fool  of  myself?  Why,  I  can't  let  things  go 
on  as  they  are.  It  wouldn't  be  honest." 

The  word  caused  a  shout  of  rude  laughter. 


ioo  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

George  lent  over  the  table  in  an  attitude  which 
suggested  acute  physical  suffering. 

'"Onest!"  he  groaned.  "Why,  Bill,  you've 
never  been  such  an  'orrid  thing  in  your  life  !  Ever 
since  you  was  a  little  five  year  old  nipper  and 
pinched  those  apples  off  Mother  Grumbage  you've 
been  up  to  something  or  other.  Old  bird,  you 
don't  say  that  blow  'as  spilt  you  for  the  profes- 
sion?" 

"It  seems  so,"  the  Count  admitted  ruefully. 
"At  any  rate  I  can't  go  on  with  this  business." 

"Gammon  and  spinach !  You  sit  tight,  brother ! 
If  you're  copped  you  might  as  well  be  copped  for 
being  a  Count  as  for  that  last  little  affair  of 
yours  at  Dr.  wot-'is  name — Frohlocken — " 

The  Count  fairly  writhed. 

"That's  the  man  who  has  befriended  me,"  he 
said.  "It's  too  awful." 

"Don't  take  on!"  George  pleaded.  "The  old 
josser  got  'is  silver  back.  I  read  about  it  in  the 
pipers.  You  must  'ave  been  in  a  'urry  or  lawst 
your  nerve  or  something,  for  you  chucked  it  down 
one  of  the  areas.  Besides,  why  shouldn't  you  be  a 
Count,  bless  your  'eart?  Don't  you  remember 
the  time  you  was  the  Prince  Donowaski  and 
pinched  the  Duchess'  diamonds?" 

"No — I  can't  say  I  do.  But  I  suppose  all  that 
explains  why  the  thing  comes  so  easily  to  me." 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  101 

George  brought  his  hand  down  with  a  heavy 
slap  on  the  drooping  shoulders. 

"Of  course  it  does,  you  old  blighter!"  he  said. 
"Why,  you've  got  the  manners  and  the  haccent  of 
the  'ighest  in  the  land.  Just  you  stick  to  it — 
that's  wot  I  say!" 

"I  can't!"  the  Count  answered  hoarsely. 
"Even  if  I  wanted  to  I  can't.  There's  the  girl." 

"The  girl!     Oh,  my,  is  there  a  girl  in  it  too?" 

"The  Mademoiselle  de  Melville — my — our — 
the  Count  de  Beaulieu's  fiancee." 

George  whistled.  Mr.  Washington  Jones 
screwed  up  one  eye. 

"Say,  that's  a  knock-out,"  he  admitted.  "I 
suppose  she'll  blow  on  you — she's  bound  to." 

"No,  she  won't — at  least  she  hasn't." 

"Hasn't?    Speak  plain,  will  you?" 

"I  mean — "  the  Count  appeared  to  have  some 
difficulty  in  controlling  his  voice.  "I  mean  that 
she  has  seen  me — and — and  well,  she  thinks  I  am 
the  Count!" 

The  three  stared  at  him  and  then  at  each 
other. 

"Wall,  I  reckon  I'm  done,"  said  Washington 
Jones. 

"'As  she  'ad  a  blow  on  the  'ead  too?"  Mrs. 
Jubbers  suggested. 

"I  can't  explain  it,"  the  Count  said  hopelessly. 
"I  can  only  think  that  there  is  some  resemblance 


102  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

between  the  Count  and  myself  and  that  long  ab- 
sence has  weakened  her  memory.  At  any  rate — 
there  she  is  and,  unless  I  tell  the  truth,  we  shall 
be  married  this  afternoon  by  special  license." 

"Wot  about  the  relations?"  Mrs.  Jubbers  en- 
quired. 

"There  aren't  any.  Mine — the  Count's  are 
dead  and  hers — well,  to  tell  the  truth  she's  run 
away  from  her  people  in  France  in  order  to  marry 
me — the  Count,  I  mean.  That's  what's  so  con- 
foundedly awkward.  For  the  present  Dr.  Froh- 
locken  has  taken  her  into  his  protection,  but  that 
can't  go  on." 

George  shook  his  head. 

"That's  luck  and  genius,"  he  said  admiringly. 
"You  go  ahead,  old  bird.  You  stick  to  it.  It's 
the  best  thing  you've  been  in  for  years." 

"But  Mademoiselle  de  Melville — " 

"If  she's  satisfied,  wot's  the  odds?  Maybe  the 
real  Count  is  dead  and  buried  and  you're  quite  a 
nice-looking  fellow.  Wot's  she  like?" 

For  the  first  time  the  Count's  face  lit  up  with 
genuine  satisfaction. 

"She's  splendid!"  he  said  simply,  but  emphat- 
ically. 

"Well  then— sit  tight!" 

"I  can't!" 

"If  you  don't — "  said  George  with  his  red  face 
very  close  to  his  brother's — "if  you  don't  I  shall 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  103 

whistle  up  the  cops  for  you.  I  won't  'ave  a  pi- 
face  for  a  relation.  It's  a  disgraice  —  I'd  never 
live  it  down  and  I  won't  try." 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  looked  about  him.  He 
was  not  a  weak  young  man,  either  physically  or 
mentally  —  the  cut  of  his  jaw  and  the  build  of  his 
shoulders  testified  to  considerable  strength  both 
of  body  and  mind  —  but  he  evidently  recognised 
the  hopelessness  of  his  situation.  He  wavered. 
George  grinned. 

"After  all,  a  fellow  with  your  reputation  don't 
need  to  be  so  mealy,"  he  said. 

The  Count  picked  up  his  hat. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  he  said  in  a  completely 
changed  tone.  "I  quite  see  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances my  idea  of  turning  over  a  new  leaf, 
as  it  were,  was  absurd.  Paradoxically,  there^s 
only  one  way  out  of  this  business  and  that  is  to 
stick  to  it.  Anyhow  I  know  now  for  certain  who 
I  am  and  that's  something  to  be  grateful  for. 
I'm  much  obliged,  Mrs.  Jubbers.  Good-morn- 


He  went  straight  to  the  door  and  the  Amer- 
ican Citizen,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  shifted. 
Both  men  followed  the  visitor  into  the  street  and 
there  was  a  moment's  awkward  silence.  The 
Count  looked  at  his  brother  with  a  kind  of  iron* 
ical  regret  on  his  handsome  face. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry  to  appear  so  indifferent,"  he 


104  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

said,  "but  you  understand  how  it  is.  Upon  my 
word, — I  was  really  beginning  to  believe  in  myself 
— in  which  case  things  would  have  been  very  dif- 
ferent— and — in  fact  it's  been  rather  a  shock  all 
round." 

George  waved  his  hand. 

"Don't  you  worry,  my  bantam,"  he  said.  "I'm 
not  hurt.  Just  lend  me  a  quid  and  all  shall  be 
forgotten.  Thank  you,  brother !  You  are  a  born 
nobleman.  I  shan't  lose  you  again  in  a  hurry!" 
He  laughed  uproariously  at  his  own  significant 
joke  and  the  Count  hurried  down  the  street  as 
though  to  escape  the  sound.  At  the  turning  he 
was  overtaken  by  Mr.  Washington  Jones.  The 
expression  on  that  gentleman's  clean-shaven  wiz- 
ened little  face  had  become  startlingly  and  almost 
uncannily  astute.  He  pinched  the  Count's  arm 
and  his  wink  was  the  last  thing  in  significance. 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  "you're  in  for  a  big 
business  and  I  have  my  holy  doubts  as  to  whether 
you'll  be  able  to  pull  it  off.  If  things  get  too 
sultry  just  you  drop  a  line  to  Washington  Jones, 
U.  S.  A.,  at  present  of  No.  10  Herbert  Street, 
and  don't  you  get  the  jumps  if  you  see  me  flitting 
round  occasionally.  You  can  take  it  from  me" — 
and  he  put  his  finger  solemnly  to  his  nose, — 
"things  aren't  always  what  they  seem." 

And  with  that  he  swaggered  off  in  the  opposite 
direction. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MADEMOISELLE  THEODORA  DE  MELVILLE  sat 
in  the  sitting-room  which  Dr.  Frohlocken  had  va- 
cated for  her  on  her  arrival  on  the  previous  day. 
The  room  had  once  been  his  "Museum"  and  in 
spite  of  pathetic  attempts  with  flowers,  gim-crack 
vases  and  other  supposed  feminine  trifles  it  still 
bore  the  impress  of  its  origin.  A  forgotten  skull 
grinned  mirthlessly  over  the  doorway  and  some- 
thing in  a  bottle — what  it  was  the  new  inhabitant 
had  not  cared  to  enquire — adorned  the  chimney- 
piece.  Yet  to  all  appearances  Mademoiselle 
Theodora  felt  herself  at  home,  even  if  she  was  not 
particularly  happy.  She  was  arrayed  in  a  dark 
blue  tailor-made  costume  which  showed  up  her 
graceful  figure  to  perfection  and  the  gloomy  room 
and  heavy  depressing  furniture  formed  an  admir- 
able background  for  her  fair,  somewhat  fragile 
beauty.  She  had  taken  her  place  before  the  fire 
and  her  attitude  was  sufficiently  haughty  and  self- 
possessed  to  make  the  young  man  opposite  her 
feel  less  at  his  ease  than  he  liked.  To  cover  his 
discomfort  he  removed  his  lavender-coloured 

105 


106  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

gloves  and  smoothed  them  out  carefully  on  his 
knee. 

"It  was  deuced  nice  of  you  to  send  me  that 
card,  Theo,"  he  drawled.  "I  was  getting  a  bit 
nervous  about  you — I  promise  you  I  was." 

"I  have  no  doubt,"  she  said  coldly  and  iron- 
ically. 

"You  don't  need  to  be  nasty.  My  alarm  was 
genuine — " 

" — and  financial,"  she  suggested. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  certainly  don't  pretend  that  finance  played 
no  role  in  my  anxiety,"  he  admitted.  "My  duns 
are  pressing  me  worse  and  worse  every  day,  and 
if  relief  doesn't  come  from  somewhere  the  crash 
will  and — well,  I've  explained  the  sequel  to  you 
before." 

"Very  often  and  at  some  length."  Her  face 
was  impassive  and  only  a  slight  tension  about  the 
mouth  betrayed  that  her  teeth  were  hard  set.  "I 
don't  think  we  need  discuss  the  matter  any  fur- 
ther," she  went  on  slowly.  "It  only  makes  me 
angry  and  it  does  no  good  to  either  of  us." 

"Oh  come !"  he  said,  stroking  his  little  fair 
moustache,  "you've  pulled  it  off  splendidly  so  far, 
Theo—" 

"I've  pulled  off  nothing  so  far,"  she  interrupted 
passionately,  "and  what  is  more  I  am  not  going 
to.  That  is  what  I  wanted  to  tell  you  and  why 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  107 

I  sent  for  you.  Now  you  know.  I  meant  to  help 
you — I  started  out  with  the  full  intention  of  car- 
rying the  wretched  business  through  but — but  now 
I  can't." 

"Why  not?"  he  asked.  His  small  vacant-look- 
ing face  had  flushed  with  consternation,  but  his 
mouth  was  vicious  and  a  little  threatening.  She 
looked  at  him  steadily,  her  white  slender  fingers 
interlocked. 

"Because — I  don't  quite  see — after  all — why  I 
should  marry  a  man  I  don't  care  for,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  I  see.  You  might  have  thought  of  that 
before.  My  dear  Theo — it's  too  pretty  an  ex- 
cuse. I  simply  don't  believe  it.  You're  afraid." 

"That  is  not  truel" 

Her  companion  smiled  satirically. 

"Are  you  quite,  quite  sure?  Is  there  not  at  the 
bottom  of  that  scrupulous  heart  a  little  fear  of 
breaking  the  eleventh  commandment — lThou  shalt 
not  be  found  out'  ?" 

"None,"  she  answered  firmly.  "I  had  already 
counted  the  cost  and  you  ought  to  know  that  I  am 
not  a  coward.  From  that  point  of  view  the  situa- 
tion is  unchanged.  There  remains  the  Count  de 
Beaulieu." 

"Certainly." 

She  got  up  and  stood  very  erect.  Her  mouth 
trembled  at  the  corners,  but  she  spoke  without 
faltering. 


io8  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"I  don't  like  him,"  she  said,  "and  I  simply  do 
not  choose  to  cheat  him." 

"My  dear  Theo,  if  you  will  excuse  my  saying  so, 
those  two  statements  are  somewhat  inconsistent. 
Or  do  you  only  cheat  the  people  you  are  fond  of? 
In  any  case,  who  is  proposing  to  cheat  him?  He 
is  engaged  to  marry  Mademoiselle  Theodora  de 
Melville  and  Mademoiselle  Theodora,  fully 
authorized  so  to  speak,  presents  herself  to  be  mar- 
ried. What  more  do  you  want?" 

"It's  unfair  to  him,"  she  persisted.  "I  don't 
like  him,  but  it  is  taking  a  cruel  advantage  of  his 
misfortune.  He  doesn't  know  me — he  has  for- 
gotten everyone.  If  he  marries  me  it  is  out  of 
chivalry — out  of  nobility — " 

" — for  which  characteristics  he  has  incurred 
your  displeasure"  he  put  in  with  a  sneer. 

"I  detest  you !"  she  said  deliberately. 

"I  know  that,  dear  Theo.  But  frankly,  all  you 
have  said  is  beside  the  point.  We  counted  on  his 
chivalry  and  nobility  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  and 
now  you  discover  that  these  virtues  are  a  stum- 
bling block.  Women  are  never  satisfied." 

"I,  at  least,  am  satisfied  to  go  no  further,"  she 
retorted. 

Her  companion  was  silent  for  a  moment.  He 
was  evidently  at  a  loss  for  an  answer  and  the  en- 
trance of  the  butler  with  a  letter  tray  caused  him 
to  give  a  smothered  sigh  of  relief. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  109 

"The  Doctor  has  told  me  to  give  you  this  tele- 
gram, madam,"  the  man  said.  "It  has  just  come 
for  him  and  he  would  be  glad  to  see  madam — 
your  ladyship — as  soon  as  possible." 

"Very  well." 

She  took  up  the  opened  telegram  and,  when  the 
butler  had  left  the  room,  unfolded  it.  She 
glanced  over  the  contents  and  then  let  the  flimsy 
paper  flutter  to  the  ground  and  laughed.  The 
laugh  was  a  somewhat  cheerless  one,  and  her  com- 
panion bent  down  and  picked  up  the  apparent 
cause  with  delicate  fingers. 

"I  can't  read  French,"  he  said.  "What's  it  all 
about?" 

"It  is  from  the  Count  de  Melville,"  she  said 
in  a  voice  sharp  with  bitterness.  "He  begs  to 
inform  Dr.  Frohlocken  that  he  has  every  reason 
to  suppose  from  the  description  that  the  person 
whom  Dr.  Frohlocken  has  protected  is  his  rene- 
gade daughter.  Under  the  circumstances,  how- 
ever, he  forbids  any  further  communication  on  the 
subject.  In  other  words  the  Countess  Theodora 
is  disowned." 

The  young  man  with  the  lavender  gloves  smiled. 

"Most  satisfactory,"  he  said. 

She  turned  on  him  furiously. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  what  I  say.  The  Count  is  nailed.  His 
chivalry  and  nobility  won't  allow  him  to  desert  a 


no  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

lonely  maiden  who  has  been  flung  off  by  her  family 
for  his  sake.  I  see  myself  at  St.  Mary's  this 
afternoon  after  all." 

She  looked  at  him.  A  vivid  flush  had  mounted 
her  cheeks  and  her  grey  eyes  had  grown  hard  and 
bright. 

"You  miscalculate,"  she  said.  "You  underesti- 
mate me." 

"Does  that  mean  you  are  going  to  back  out?" 

"Yes." 

Her  companion  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
drew  out  a  couple  of  letters  which  he  handed  to 
her. 

"I  don't  make  any  appeal  for  myself,"  he  said 
in  a  businesslike  tone.  "I  know  well  enough  that 
if  the  ocean  swallowed  me  up  to-morrow  you 
would  only  be  too  glad.  But  the  letters  will  plead 
for  themselves.  Pray  read  them — then  you  can 
decide." 

She  took  the  letters  from  his  hand  reluctantly, 
with  her  eyes  on  his  face  as  though  she  suspected 
some  trick,  and  carried  them  to  the  window.  Ten 
minutes  passed  during  which  the  young  man  stared 
absently  and  apparently  indifferently  into  the  fire. 
Then  Mademoiselle  Theodora  came  back  and 
faced  him.  She  was  very  pale  now  and  the  black 
eyelashes  were  wet  with  recent  tears. 

"You  are  very  clever,"  she  said  with  a  little 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  in 

broken  laugh.  "I  congratulate  you.  Had  your 
talent  been  directed  in  another  channel — " 

He  waved  his  hand. 

"Don't  preach,  Theo.  I've  heard  all  that  be- 
fore. What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

For  a  minute  she  said  nothing,  battling  for  her 
voice.  Then  she  broke  down.  Her  sobs  were  in- 
audible but  their  violence  shook  her  slender  frame 
from  head  to  foot  and  she  leant  against  the  man- 
telpiece with  her  face  buried  in  her  arms.  Her 
companion  rose  to  his  feet.  His  expression  was 
coolly  triumphant. 

"Well?"  he  said. 

"For  their  sake — I  shall  go  through  with  it," 
she  said  unsteadily. 

"Thank  you."  He  took  up  his  hat.  "I  shall 
hope  to  hear  from  you  in  the  next  few  days — as 
soon  as  possible  in  fact — and  afterwards  you  can 
arrange  to  introduce  me  as  your  old  friend,  Mr. 
Cecil  Saunders."  He  laughed  lightly.  "Well, 
good-bye,  Theo.  Good  luck  and  all  happiness!" 

She  made  no  answer  and  he  lounged  out  of 
the  room  and  down  stairs.  In  the  hall  he  passed 
Dr.  Frohlocken  who  stared  at  him  suspiciously, 
but  Mr.  Cecil  Saunders  was  evidently  not  a  man 
to  be  easily  upset,  and  he  continued  on  his  way 
undisturbed. 

Dr.  Frohlocken  waited  until  the  hall  door  had 
banged  on  the  unknown  guest  and  then  hurried 


ii2  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

upstairs  and  softly  opened  the  door  of  his  old 
"Museum."  He  peered  in.  Mademoiselle  Theo- 
dora was  still  by  the  mantelpiece  and  the  sound  of 
her  uneven  breathing  told  him  even  more  than 
her  attitude  of  complete  abandonment.  The  torn 
telegram  lay  at  her  feet  and  the  Doctor  nodded 
and  scowled  in  mingled  sympathy  and  annoyance. 
"Damned  idiot!"  he  muttered  and,  closing  the 
door,  crept  away  as  softly  as  he  had  come. 


CHAPTER  VII 

HE  was  a  rogue  and  he  consorted  with  rogues. 
At  the  tender  age  of  five  he  had  "pinched"  apples 
from  some  harmless  body  rejoicing  in  the  name  of 
Mother  Grumbage.  He  had  posed  as  a  prince 
and  decamped  with  the  diamonds  of  a  duchess. 
He  had  stolen — inadvertently  it  is  true — the  sil- 
ver of  a  man  destined  to  befriend  him  in  the  hour 
of  need  and  now,  so  it  appeared,  he  had  bribed 
Luck  herself  into  becoming  an  active  partner  in 
his  nefarious  business.  At  any  rate  the  fickle  lady 
had  thrust  him  into  his  present  position  without 
the  slightest  assistance  from  himself.  In  one 
evening  he,  Slippery  Bill,  had  become  Count  de 
Beaulieu,  a  young  and  wealthy  nobleman,  engaged 
to  be  married  to  a  charming  lady  of  equally  ex- 
alted station,  and  nobody  had  so  far  disputed  his 
position,  not  even  the  person  most  entitled  to  do 
so.  The  whole  thing  was  miraculous  and  scarcely 
credible — more  than  that — it  was  altogether 
splendid.  As  he  stood  hesitating  on  Dr.  Froh« 
locken's  doorstep  he  looked  back  on  the  last  few 
days  as  on  a  mad  if  not  unpleasant  dream.  He 
realised  that  for  a  man  in  his  position  he  had  done 

"3 


H4  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

extremely  well  by  himself — that  he  had,  in  fact, 
surpassed  all  previous  records  in  high-class  swin- 
dling. Apple-pinching,  fraudulent  impersonations 
and  unwarranted  removals  of  other  people's  prop- 
erty were  nothing  compared  to  his  present  under- 
taking— always  supposing  that  he  had  the  nerve 
to  carry  it  through.  But  of  that  he  was  now  al- 
most certain.  His  previous  career  warranted  it, 
and  as  the  door  opened  and  he  passed  the  now 
obsequious  James  he  felt  his  self-confidence  rise. 
The  man  who  can  bear  the  scrutiny  of  a  butler 
can  brazen  out  anything.  Nor  did  the  sudden  ap- 
pearance of  Dr.  Frohlocken,  more  than  ever  wild- 
haired  and  bad-tempered,  cause  him  more  than  a 
slight  start  of  natural  apprehension.  He  saw  that 
something  unusual  had  happened,  but  unusual 
things  were  becoming — paradoxically — common- 
place and  he  was  prepared  for  everything. 

"What  is  the  latest  news?"  he  asked  a  trifle 
wearily,  for  even  surprises  can  become  tedious. 
"Who  has  turned  up  now?" 

"For  Heaven's  sake  go  to  her  at  once,"  Dr. 
Frohlocken  pleaded  violently.  "I've  done  it — 
I've  put  my  foot  in  it — when  it  comes  to  women — 
a  woman  like  that — I  lose  my  head.  Thank  God 
you  are  marrying  her !  It  was  a  telegram — from 
her  parents — and  I  sent  it  up — without  warning — 
absolutely  idiotic — and  she's  crying — fainting — I 
don't  know  what — " 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  115 

De  Beaulieu  controlled  the  desire  to  finish  the 
flight  of  stairs  in  a  couple  of  strides.  Haste  is 
plebeian  and,  besides,  there  was  no  real  need  for 
haste.  If  his  heart  thumped  against  his  ribs  it 
was  no  doubt  at  the  thought  of  the  endless  possi- 
bilities which  the  telegram  might  contain  and  he 
entered  Mademoiselle  de  Melville's  sitting-room 
with  as  much  nonchalance  as  he  could  muster.  He 
found  her  seated  by  the  table,  but  as  she  heard  the 
door  close  she  sprang  up  and  faced  him  with 
flushed  and  tear-stained  cheeks  which  put  all  his 
artificial  sangfroid  to  flight.  He  came  impulsively 
to  her  side. 

"The  Doctor  told  me  that  you  had  had  bad 
news,"  he  said.  "Is  it  anything  very  serious?  I 
am  so  awfully  sorry." 

"Bad  news?"  she  sobbed  and  stared  at  him 
blankly.  "Who  told  you?  How  do  you  know?" 

"The  doctor  told  me  that  you  had  received  a 
telegram  from  your  people,"  he  explained  some- 
what taken  aback. 

"Of  course."  She  passed  her  handkerchief  ner- 
vously over  her  burning  cheeks.  "I  had  forgotten, 
yes,  of  course, — he  it  is.  I  suppose  you  ought 
to  see  it."  She  picked  up  the  crumpled  bit  of  pink 
paper  and  handed  it  to  him.  "There — you  can 
read  it  for  yourself." 

But  that  was  just  what  he  could  not  do.  The 
pithy  French  phrases  were  Hebrew  to  him  and 


n6  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

he  stared  at  them  with  a  mounting  panic.  Un- 
doubtedly the  moment  had  come  to  prove  himself 
worthy  of  his  reputation,  and  yet  he  felt  his  cour- 
age oozing  slowly  but  perceptibly  out  of  his  finger 
tips. 

"I'm  afraid  I  do  not  quite  understand,"  he 
hedged  at  last,  feeling  that,  as  the  Count  de 
Beaulieu,  he  could  neither  ask  to  have  the  tele- 
gram translated  nor  continue  to  stare  at  it  in- 
definitely. "Your  parents — er — " 

" — have  done  just  what  I  expected  them  to 
do,"  she  finished  mercifully.  "They  have  dis- 
owned me." 

"Good  heavens!"  His  exclamation  was  not 
quite  sincere.  He  took  up  the  telegram  and  stared 
at  it  again  as  though  he  could  not  believe  his  eyes 
and,  as  he  did  so,  he  was  overtaken  by  an  impulse 
which,  in  him,  was  altogether  insane.  "Theo — " 
he  began  recklessly.  "Theo — supposing  you  went 
back  to  them — without  me — supposing  you  felt 
that  it  was  after  all  your  duty  to  obey  them — 
would  they  take  you  back?" 

"No,"  she  said  bitterly,  "they  would  not.  You 
ought  to  know  them  better." 

He  felt  that  he  certainly  ought.  He  felt  also 
that  the  treacherous  demon,  honesty,  had  nearly 
led  him  into  committing  an  irremediable  blunder 
and  that  he  was  in  danger  of  blundering  even 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  117 

more  effectually.  Mademoiselle  Theodora  looked 
at  him  and  he  flinched. 

"Perhaps  you  mean  that  you  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  our  marriage  is  a  mistake?"  she 
suggested  slowly  and  sarcastically. 

"Of  course  not!"  he  protested.  "What  an 
idea  !  My  dear  girl — " 

"It  is  not  at  all  necessary  to  call  me  'your  dear 
girl'  in  private,"  she  interrupted,  with  angry  eyes. 

"Not  necessary  perhaps,  but  pleasant."  He 
felt  that  he  was  getting  impertinent — he  was  cer- 
tainly angry.  She  had  flicked  him  on  the  raw 
though  he  could  not  have  explained  how,  and  he 
had  some  difficulty  in  hiding  the  fact. 

"I  merely  meant  to  observe  that  it  would  grieve 
me  to  come  between  you  and  those  to  whom  you 
belong,"  he  said. 

"I  belong  to  no  one,"  she  retorted.  "I  have 
no  one  in  the  world  except — " 

"Me?"  he  suggested  with  miraculously  recov- 
ered cheerfulness. 

"Certainly  not.    Did  I  say  so?" 

"You  did  not  say  so,  but  circumstances — " 

"You  are  both  stupid  and  ungenerous!"  she 
blazed.  "You  are  constantly  referring  to  my  help- 
less position  and — " 

"Oh,  I  know  I'm  an  utter  scoundrel!"  he  in- 
terrupted in  a  tone  of  profound  injury  which,  on 
closer  inspection,  might  have  seemed  somewhat 


n8  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

unjustifiable,  "but,  after  all,  as  we  are  to  be  mar- 
ried this  afternoon  I  think  you  might  at  least  pre- 
tend to  have  some  feeling  in  the  matter." 

She  looked  at  him  with  scornful,  unhappy  eyes. 

"You  do  not  expect  me  to  love  a  man  who  has 
completely  forgotten  my  existence  and  who  is  only 
marrying  me  out  of  a  sense  of  duty,  and  whom  I 
am  only  marrying  because  I  have  to — " 

"Now  you  are  getting  nasty  again!"  he  pro- 
tested. 

"I  can't  help  it.  I  am  nasty  by  nature.  Besides 
you  insist  on  looking  at  things  from  the  wrong 
point  of  view.  We  arranged  from  the  beginning 
that  it  was  to  be  a  matter  of  convenience — " 

" — until  further  notice,"  he  interposed. 

"No  notice  has  been  given  or  shall  be  given." 
Her  face  grew  hard  and  determined  but  there  was 
a  strange,  intent  look  in  her  eyes  which  would 
have  startled  him  had  he  seen  it.  "If  you  would 
rather  get  out  of  your  bargain  there  is  still  time," 
she  added  slowly. 

"Theodora !"  He  was  now  thoroughly  aroused. 
Her  indifference  piqued  him.  He  had  completely 
forgotten  that  he  was  not  the  Count  de  Beaulieu 
and  had  therefore  no  claim  on  her  affection.  He 
had  also  completely  forgotten  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Melville  was  a  mere  pawn  in  his  vile  conspiracy. 
He  felt  increasingly  injured  and  ill-used.  "I  shall 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  119 

marry  you  if  I  have  to  hang  for  it!"  he  said  be- 
tween his  teeth. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"In  that  case  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said." 

There  was  a  moment's  angry  silence.  Then, 
suddenly,  he  realised  how  pale  and  miserable  she 
looked  in  spite  of  her  assumption  of  indifference 
and  his  heart — steeped  though  it  doubtless  was  in 
untold  and  untellable  crimes — softened  unexpect- 
edly. He  came  to  her  side  and  took  her  hand  in 
his. 

"I've  been  a  brute,"  he  said.  "I  know  there's 
not  the  least  reason  why  you  should  care  for  me 
— I'm  not  worth  it.  If  the  truth  were  told — "  he 
choked  and  went  on  hurriedly — "I  don't  ask  for 
much,  Theo — only  if  you  could  possibly  trust 
me—" 

"I  do  trust  you !"  she  broke  in  passionately.  "I 
trust  you  so  much  that  I  am  sorry  for  you.  You 
don't  know  what  sort  of  a  person  you  are  marry- 
ing." 

"Nor  do  you,"  he  said  with  truth  and  bitter- 
ness. 

"But  I  trust  you  all  the  same.  Besides,  of 
course  I  know." 

"Yes — of  course,"  he  agreed  hastily.  "I  meant 
— would  you  trust  me  anyhow — whatever  I  did, 
whatever  I  had  done?" 

"Yes,"  she  said.    She  held  out  her  hand.    The 


120  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

Rogue  hesitated.  He  was  threatened  by  another 
attack  from  his  pet  demon  and  he  set  his  teeth 
hard  to  hold  back  a  headlong  confession.  None 
of  his  previous  villainies  equalled  this  one — of 
that  he  was  sure — and  yet  she  looked  so  helpless, 
so  lonely,  so  bewilderingly  attractive  in  her  frank 
surrender.  Besides — he  was  a  rogue  and  why  in 
the  name  of  all  the  saints  in  the  criminal  calendar 
should  he  not  act  as  one?  He  took  the  out- 
stretched hand  and  kissed  it.  But  in  the  end  the 
Demon  got  the  better  of  him. 

"Heaven  make  me  more  worthy  of  you!"  he 
said  solemnly. 

And  if  it  was  the  first  prayer  that  he  had  ever 
uttered  it  had,  at  least,  the  advantage  of  being 
sincere. 

That  afternoon  a  quiet  ceremony  was  per- 
formed in  an  unfashionable  church  in  the  West 
of  London.  The  bride,  as  the  ladies'  papers 
would  have  said  had  they  had  the  chance,  looked 
charming  in  a  blue  cloth  costume,  and  was  given 
away  by  Dr.  Frohlocken,  the  well-known  scientist. 
What  the  bridegroom  did  or  looked  like  is  unim- 
portant. There  was  only  one  uninvited  guest  at 
the  ceremony — a  person  who  sat  at  the  end  of  the 
church  and  played  with  his  lavender-kid  gloves — 
and  the  witnesses  consisted  of  the  charwoman  and 
her  husband. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  121 

Thus,  "no  just  cause  or  impediment"  interven- 
ing, William  Brown,  alias  Slippery  Bill,  became 
not  only  a  bogus  Count  but  a  most  fraudulently 
married  man. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"STAND  back  there!     Stand  back!" 

The  guard  waved  his  flag,  a  shrill  whistle  rose 
above  the  general  hubbub,  doors  were  banged,  a 
wild-haired  gentleman  of  obviously  Semitic  de- 
scent, who  had  been  exchanging  voluble  farewells 
with  a  first-class  passenger,  was  hustled  on  one 
side  and  the  Northern  Express  glided  trium- 
phantly out  of  the  station. 

The  first-class  passenger  sank  back  into  his  seat 
with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I'm  glad  that's  over!"  he  said. 

His  companion  removed  her  hat,  smoothed  her 
fair  hair  and  settled  herself  comfortably  among 
her  rugs. 

"Are  you?"  she  then  enquired  with  polite  in- 
terest. 

"Getting  married  is  such  a  business,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

"It  seems  so.    But  this  is  my  first  experience." 

Her  tone  was  not  encouraging.  Moreover  she 
was  staring  out  of  the  window,  and  it  is  notoriously 
difficult  to  talk  to  a  person  who  refuses  to  look  at 

122 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  123 

you.  The  Count  Louis  de  Beaulieu  coughed  to 
cover  his  embarrassment. 

"Quite  comfortable?"  he  asked,  after  a  mo- 
ment, with  a  cheerful  brevity  which  was  intended 
to  impress  both  her  and  himself  with  his  complete 
mastery  of  the  situation. 

"Quite  comfortable,  thank  you." 

She  glanced  round  at  him  this  time,  frigidly  po- 
lite, and  it  was  his  turn  to  take  refuge  in  the  out- 
look. The  outlook  at  that  moment  was  even  less 
exhilarating.  The  lights  of  dirty  tenements  and 
an  occasional  suburban  station  flashed  past,  and 
for  all  he  could  see  they  were  being  whirled 
through  a  monotonous  darkness — a  fact  which 
made  his  appearance  of  absorbed  interest  some- 
what farcical.  He  sighed  ostentatiously,  but  as 
no  notice  was  taken  of  this  distress  signal  he  ven- 
tured to  glance  cautiously  at  his  vis-i-vis.  She 
had  taken  a  magazine  out  of  her  hand-bag  and 
was  reading,  for  all  the  world  as  though  the  busi- 
ness of  getting  married  was  of  daily  occurrence. 
She  was  also  looking  very  pretty.  The  two  cir- 
cumstances, taken  together,  were  intensely  aggra- 
vating. Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  sighed  again. 

"I  wish  I  had  bought  myself  an  evening  pa- 
per!" he  burst  out,  with  the  abruptness  of  a  long- 
suppressed  grievance. 

"Why  didn't  you?"  she  enquired  tranquilly. 


124  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"  'Pon  my  word — I  thought  it  would  seem — 
well — callous  on  one's — wedding  day." 

The  shot  was  excellent,  but  the  target  merely 
smiled  and  turned  over  another  page  of  the  mag- 
azine. 

"In  an  ordinary  way  your  delicacy  would  be 
justified,"  she  said.  "As  it  happens,  however, 
our  marriage  is  exceptional." 

"Indeed—?" 

"The  circumstances  attending  it  are  excep- 
tional, you  will  admit?" 

"What  circumstances?"  he  asked  obstinately. 

"Mon  pauvre  ami — you  know  them  as  well  as 
I  do." 

Count  Louis  flinched.  The  slightest  inclina- 
tion on  her  part  to  burst  into  French  terrified  him. 
Moreover  her  answer  was  conclusive  and  did  not 
admit  of  contradiction,  and  he  was  surprised  at 
his  own  dogged  determination  not  to  drop  the 
subject. 

"It  certainly  is  an  extraordinary  business,"  he 
admitted  meditatively  as  though  continuing  an 
amicable  discussion ;  "I  should  never  have  dreamed 
that  night  when  I  woke  up  on  the  doorstep  with 
a  broken  head  and  no  idea  what  had  happened 
to  me  or  who  I  was,  that  a  fortnight  later  I  should 
be  a  Count  and  a  married  man." 

"I  suppose  not,"  she  agreed  coldly.  Never- 
theless she  looked  up  from  her  book  with  a  faint 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  125 

interest,  and  presently  she  added — evidently  much 
against  her  own  will:  "It  must  be  uncomfortable 
to  wake  up  and  find  that  one  has  lost  one's  mem- 
ory." 

"I  should  think  so!  If  it  hadn't  been  for  our 
friend,  Dr.  Frohlocken,  I  have  not  the  slightest 
doubt  that  Constable  X.  would  have  bundled  me 
off  to  a  pauper  lunatic  asylum.  As  it  was — " 

" — you  found  you  were  a  missing  French  no- 
bleman, heir  to  English  estates  and  engaged  to  be 
married  to  a  runaway  French  girl  whom  you 
couldn't  even  remember!" 

He  nodded — not  quite  so  much  at  his  ease. 

"I  couldn't  remember  anything,"  he  apolo- 
gised, " — not  even  myself.  For  all  I  knew  I 
might  have  been — well — anybody,  you  know." 

The  Countess  Theodora  smiled. 

"The  marriage  part  of  the  affair  must  have 
been  a  shock,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 

"Not  when  I  saw  you." 

"I  did  not  ask  for  compliments.'* 

"I'm  not  trying  to  pay  any." 

Her  smile  became  mocking. 

"At  any  rate  you  behaved  like  a  knight  sans 
peur  et  sans  reproche.  You  married  the  runaway. 
It  was  noble  of  you." 

The  Count  blushed. 

"Theodora — "  he  began  impulsively. 


126  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

She  withdrew  her  hand — not  unkindly  but  with 
decision. 

"All  that  is  in  defiance  of  our  compact,"  she 
reminded  him. 

"Confound  the  compact!" 

"No — don't  confound  it — it  would  be  a  pity. 
It  is  an  excellent  compact — so  business-like  and 
simple.  In  marrying  you,  I  settled  the  doubtful 
matter  of  your  identity;  in  marrying  me — well, 
as  a  disowned  runaway  my  advantage  was  obvious. 
But  sentimentalities  on  either  side  are  quite  un- 
necessary." 

"Then  your  girlhood's  affection  for  me  is 
dead?"  he  enquired  with  profound  gloom. 

"Quite." 

"Do  you  think — there  is  any  likelihood  of  a 
resurrection?" 

"None." 

"Don't  you  think  it's  rather  bad  luck?" 

"For  whom?" 

"For  me,  of  course." 

She  gave  a  gay  little  laugh. 

"Considering  that  you  cannot  even  remember 
me,  the  loss  of  my  girlhood's  affection  cannot  be 
unbearable." 

The  Count  said  something  under  his  breath 
and  turned  his  attention  back  to  the  window. 
The  Countess  went  on  reading  and  a  long  silence 
intervened.  The  Count  was  in  a  state  usually 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  127 

described  by  the  patient  as  "hurt"  and  by  other 
people  as  "sulky";  the  Countess  appeared  bliss- 
fully indifferent.  And  thus  half  an  hour  passed. 
Then  the  dining-car  attendant  made  his  appear- 
ance. He  made  his  appearance  discreetly,  after 
a  due  rattling  of  the  door  handle,  and  his  face, 
when  he  saw  fit  to  reveal  it,  was  radiant  with 
knowing  sympathy. 

"Shall  I  reserve  places  for  you,  my  lord?"  he 
asked.  "Dinner  in  twenty  minutes." 

The  Count  glanced  across  at  the  Countess. 

"I  do  not  want  any  dinner,"  she  said,  "but  go 
yourself  by  all  means.  You  are  sure  to  be  hun- 


"I  am  not  at  all  hungry,"  with  much  stiffness. 

"No  places  needed  then,  my  lord?" 

"No,  thank  you." 

The  attendant  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
with  an  air  of  exasperating  understanding,  mum- 
bled a  discreet  "good-night"  and  retired.  The 
Countess  watched  his  departure  with  a  faint  un- 


easiness. 
M 


Why  did  he  look  at  us  like  that?"  she  asked. 
"Does  he  think  we  are  suspicious  characters?" 

"Suspicious  characters?  Good  heavens — " 
The  Count  started,  but  recovered  himself  with 
great  presence  of  mind.  "Probably  he  thinks  we 
have  had  a  lovers'  quarrel,"  he  added  bitterly. 


128  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"That  is  one  thing  we  shall  never  be  able  to 
have,"  she  retorted. 

"Thank  Goodness!"  said  the  Count  with  the 
hypocritical  gratitude  of  frenzy.  Whereupon  the 
Countess  Theodora  smiled,  and  her  smile  was  the 
last  thing  in  sweetness. 

"I  knew  you  were  really  glad,"  she  commented. 
"I  am  delighted  you  too  feel  like  that.  It  makes 
things  so  much  nicer.  I  am  sure  we  shall  be  ex- 
cellent friendsi — in  time."  She  looked  at  him 
expectantly  as  though  awaiting  a  further  attack, 
but  the  Count  covered  his  face  with  his  hand,  ap- 
parently overcome  by  a  sudden  weariness.  "I 
think  I  shall  try  to  go  to  sleep  too,"  she  went  on 
with  unalloyed  affability.  "Bon  Soir,  Louis." 

"Bong  Soir,"  in  a  gloomy  growl. 

She  piled  up  her  rugs  to  a  comfortable  pillow 
and  closed  her  eyes — or  appeared  to  close  them. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  her  long  dark  lashes  concealed 
a  narrow  aperture  through  which  she  studied  her 
vis-a-vis  with  malicious  curiosity.  Was  he  look- 
ing at  her  between  his  fingers  or  was  he  not? 
Either  way  he  annoyed  her,  and  her  annoyance 
was  increased  by  her  inability  to  come  to  a  deci- 
sion. The  Count  remained  motionless;  his  breath- 
ing was  peaceful  and  regular,  and  his  fingers  were 
suspicious.  Once  she  fancied  she  caught  the 
gleam  of  his  eyes,  but  a  sudden  opening  of  hers 
produced  not  so  much  as  a  movement,  and  a  few 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  129 

minutes  later  the   Countess  Theodora   dropped 
into  a  heavy  sleep. 

The  Count  noted  the  fact,  and  he  also  noticed 
that  she  had  inadvertently  commandeered  his 
rug  and  that  the  window  was  open.  He  bore 
the  consequent  rapid  descent  of  his  own  temper- 
ature patiently,  fearful  of  disturbing  her,  and, 
lulled  by  the  rumble  and  roar  of  the  train,  he  re- 
lapsed into  a  half-frozen  state  of  torpor.  His 
mind  continued  to  work,  however,  against  his 
will,  and  in  a  very  jerky  and  disconnected  fashion. 
Jumbled  and  distorted  visions  of  the  past  few 
weeks  rolled  themselves  out  before  his  mental 
eye  like  a  mad  cinematograph  film.  Policemen, 
bogus  counts,  runaway,  enraged  French  parents, 
distraught  doctors,  a  whole  galaxy  of  victims 
whom  he  had  basely  deceived  danced  for  a  mo- 
ment into  the  limelight  and  disappeared.  Last 
of  all  one  face  appeared  and  remained — a  red, 
grinning  face,  horribly  familiar.  The  Count 
shook  himself,  he  rubbed  his  eyes.  He  told  him- 
self that  he  was  dreaming  and  that  he  would 
wake  up  in  a  moment — but  the  face  remained. 
Its  expression  became  increasingly,  disgustingly 
friendly.  And  then  a  hand  added  itself  to  the 
nightmare  and  cautiously,  steadily,  the  big  win- 
dow of  the  railway  carriage  was  pushed  farther 
down.  Under  happier  circumstances,  the  Count 
would  have  pulled  the  alarm  cord  or  at  least  taken 


130  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

some  steps  to  draw  attention  to  his  visitor.  As 
it  was  he  sat  paralysed  and  tongue-tied  and  it  was 
left  to  the  apparition  to  break  the  ice. 

"'Ullo,  Bill!"  it  whispered. 

The  Count  tried  to  respond,  but  could  only 
give  an  imploring  terror-stricken  glance  at  his 
wife.  With  a  sigh  of  relief  he  saw  that  she  was 
still  sleeping  peacefully. 

"  'Ullo  I"  the  owner  of  the  red  face  repeated. 
"Ye  don't  seemed  so  pleased  to  see  your  brother 
Garge  as  you  ought,  old  bird.  Give  us  a  'and!" 

"For  pity's  sake!"  the  "old  bird"  managed  to 
gasp  in  a  tragic  undertone.  "What  on  earth 
are  you  doing  out  there?  You'll  be  killed!" 

"Not  I,  anxious  one.  I'll  be  through  in  a 
jiffy." 

"In?  .  You  can't  come  in  here!" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can !  Just  you  open  your  little 
peeps  and  watch  me!" 

One  foot  and  then  a  leg  were  introduced 
through  the  open  window.  The  Count  made  a 
frantic  gesture  of  protest.  But  it  was  too  late. 
The  nightmare  had  become  an  insurmountable 
reality. 

"Look  here — you  can't — you'll  ruin  me.  If 
you're  found  in  here,  it's  all  over  with  me — " 

"Sonny,  trust  your  loving  brother.  Anyhow 
I've  got  to  come  in.  I've  reckoned  on  you.  This 
bloomin'  old  bone-rattler's  goin'  a  good  sixty  and 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  131 

I  can't  hold  on  much  longer.  Now  then — softly' s 
the  word  and  mind  your  toes!" 

He  was  through.  So  cautious  and  light  had 
been  his  movements  that  such  noise  as  he  had 
made  had  lost  itself  in  the  steady  rumble  of  the 
express.  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  rose  involuntar- 
ily to  his  feet.  George  smiled  cheerfully  upon 
him. 

"You  don't  need  to  look  so  blue,  old  bird,"  he 
whispered.  "Ain't  it  nat'ral  and  right  that  a  man 
should  see  'is  brother  on  the  most  solemn  day  of 
'is  life?  Look  'ere — 'ere's  a  wedding  present 
for  you !"  He  slipped  a  small  jewel  case  out  of 
his  pocket,  selected  something  from  the  contents 
and  pressed  it  into  the  Count's  nerveless  hand. 
"You  give  that  to  your  lady  with  brother  George's 
best  love!"  he  said.  "They're  real — they  are. 
I've  got  'em  from  an  old  friend  of  mine — Mrs. 
Pagot-Chump — 'oo  is  at  the  very  moment  lying 
in  a  lovely  swoon  not  two  carriages  off." 

The  Count  examined  the  string  of  pearls  in 
blank  consternation. 

"Stolen!"  he  groaned. 

"Now,  Bill,  don't  you  go  using  nasty  expres- 
sions or  my  feelings  '11  be  'urt.  I'm  'elping  to 
nationalise  property — that's  all." 

"The  train  will  be  searched — " 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  left  the  carriage  door 
open.  They'll  be  looking  for  me  poor  corpse 


IJ2,  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

along  the  line.  Bright  of  me,  wasn't  it?  Ain't 
I  worthy  of  you,  Bill,  dear?" 

"Don't — for  mercy's  sake — don't!  And  look 
here — take  these  things  back — I  can't — I  won't 
have  them — " 

"Why  not,  old  bird?" 

"I  tell  you — I  can't.  It's  impossible  to  ex- 
plain— but  I'm  trying  to  lead  an  honest  life 
and—" 

"Wot — you,  you  old  'umbug  you — " 

"Hush!" 

The  train  had  suddenly  begun  to  slacken  speed 
and,  apparently  roused  by  the  change  of  motion, 
the  Countess  Theodora  opened  her  eyes.  In 
questioning  amazement  she  looked  from  her  hus- 
band to  his  companion  and  back  again. 

"Louis!"  she  exclaimed.  "Qui  est  ce  mon- 
sieur?" 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  addressed  him 
directly  in  the  language  which  should  have  been 
his  own  and  the  shock  gave  the  Count  back  some- 
thing of  his  presence  of  mind. 

"Ce  monsieur — "  he  began,  and  then  tottered 
back  into  his  own  tongue,  "Theodora — this  gen- 
tleman— I  should  say  this  man — this — eh — per- 
son is — of  course — my  valet — " 

It  had  come  as  an  inspiration.  He  clutched  at 
it  as  a  drowning  man  clutches  at  a  straw  and  shut 
his  eyes.  Nothing  happened.  When  he  opened 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  133 

them  again  George  was  standing  stiffly  respectful, 
his  wife  was  looking  at  him  in  mild  wonder. 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  a  valet,"  she  said. 

"Nor  did  I — I  mean — I  hadn't,  but  the  faithful 
fellow  would  follow  me — " 

"It's  like  this,  your  ladyship,"  George  put  in 
humbly  but  with  gentle  firmness.  "His  lordship 
left  me  behind  to  look  after  something  he  had  or- 
dered for  your  ladyship  and  which  wasn't  quite 
ready,  but  it  arrived  in  time  for  me  to  catch  the 
train  and  I  thought  it  better  to  bring  the  parcel 
straight  to  his  lordship." 

The  Count  stared  open-mouthed.  The  aspi- 
rates were  in  their  place.  The  ruffianly  George 
had  become  miraculously  and  instantaneously  an 
edition  de  luxe  of  the  proverbial  "gentleman's 
gentleman." 

"Yes — er — that  was  how  it  was,"  the  Count 
assented  hastily,  in  response  to  an  admonitory 
wink  from  George's  off-side  eye.  "It  was  to  have 
been  a  little  surprise  for  you,  Theo — in  fact — " 
He  broke  off ;  where  the  surprise  was  coming  from 
he  had  no  idea.  He  felt  that  he  was  up  to  his 
neck  in  a  horrid  quagmire  of  deceit  from  which 
there  was  no  escape.  It  was  Theodora  herself 
who  came  to  the  rescue. 

"Oh,  Louis,  how  beautiful!"  she  said  softly. 

He  followed  the  direction  of  her  eyes.  They 
rested  on  his  hand  with  an  expression  of  incred- 


134  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

ulous  delight,  and  he  remembered.  The  pearls! 
A  storm  of  protest  rushed  to  his  lips,  but  stopped 
there,  checked  by  the  utter  futility  of  endeavour- 
ing to  explain  a  so  hopelessly  inexplicable  situa- 
tion. Paralysed  with  dismay,  he  watched  her  as 
she  held  the  string  of  perfectly  matched  pearls  to 
the  light,  a  flush  of  genuine  pleasure  spreading 
over  her  fair  cheeks. 

"Oh,  Louis !"  she  said  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 
"Did  you  really  mean  them  for  me — are  they 
really  mine  to  do  just  what  I  like  with?" 

The  Count  hesitated,  gasping  on  the  edge  of 
the  precipice.  A  gentle  but  expressive  pressure 
from  George's  boot  on  his  foot  sent  him  headlong 
into  the  depths. 

"Of  course,  Theo,"  he  said.     "Of  course." 

The  deed  was  done.  By  his  own  action  he  had 
set  the  seal  on  his  criminal  career.  He  was  once 
more  the  Rogue,  that  much  sought-after  individ- 
ual who  rejoiced  in  the  vulgar  pseudonym  of 
"Slippery  Bill,"  and  all  the  make-believe  glories 
of  his  present  position  and  dropped  from  him  like 
a  borrowed  mantle.  And  at  that  precise  moment, 
as  though  to  complete  his  misery,  the  brakes 
gripped  and  with  an  unpleasant  jar  the  express 
came  to  a  standstill.  Loud  voices  sounded  from 
the  neighbouring  carriages — an  excited  guard  hur- 
ried down  the  corridor,  gesticulating  wildly,  and 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  135 

a  no  less  excited  female,  armed  with  smelling 
salts,  followed  in  the  rear. 

But  of  all  these  matters  the  Countess  Theo- 
dore appeared  blissfully  unconscious.  She  looked 
up  shyly  from  her  belated  wedding  gift,  a  faint 
smile  dawning  in  her  eyes  and  about  the  corners 
of  her  mouth. 

"Thank  you!"  she  said. 

And  for  the  first  time  since  their  marriage, 
George  having  tactfully  withdrawn,  she  kissed 
him  lightly  on  either  cheek. 


CHAPTER  IX 

"FANCY  there  having  been  a  robbery  on  our 
train!"  said  the  Countess  Theodora  looking  up 
from  "The  Bunmouth  Daily  Chronicle."  "How 
strange!  Didn't  you  know  anything  about  it, 
Louis?" 

"Nothing  at  all,"  said  the  Count  de  Beaulieu 
intent  on  his  breakfast  and  very  red  in  the  face. 
George,  resplendent  in  a  cast-off  suit,  was  tem- 
porarily taking  the  place  of  the  hotel-waiter  whom 
he  had  ignominously  ejected  from  the  Count's 
suite,  and  his  manner  of  serving  the  ham  and 
eggs  was  stoically  self-possessed  and  correct. 
The  Count  glared  at  him  out  of  the  corners  of 
his  eye,  mutely  admiring.  Certainly  the  talent 
for  impersonating  superior  people  ran  in  the 
family. 

"Really,  there  appears  to  have  been  quite  a 
commotion,"  the  Countess  Theodora  went  on. 
"Just  listen — 'Mrs.  Pagot-Chump,  the  well-known 
American  millionairess  who  is  at  present  honour- 
ing Bunmouth  with  a  long  visit — ' ' 

"What!" 

The  Countess  Theodora  looked  across  the  table 
136 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  137 

in  grave  surprise.  The  exclamation  had  come 
like  a  pistol-shot.  Her  husband's  face  was  col- 
ourless and  his  eyeglass  had  dropped  with  a  click 
into  his  plate. 

"Is  there  anything  the  matter,  Louis?"  she 
asked.  "Aren't  you  feeling  well?" 

"Well?"  He  caught  George's  eye  and  recov- 
ered himself,  though  not  very  effectually.  "Of 
course — perfectly  well.  I  was  only  shocked — 
surprised,  I  should  say,  that  a  person  like  Mrs. 
Pagot-Chump  should  come  to — well — to  a  place 
like  this — you  know — " 

"Do  you  you  know  her  then?" 

"Certainly  not — that  is  to  say — I  have  heard 
of  her." 

"You  seem  to  be  very  well  acquainted  with  her 
tastes." 

"My  dear  Theo,"  in  tones  of  mild  superiority, 
"American  millionairesses  are  the  same  all  the 
world  over." 

"Do  you  generally  shout  like  that  when  you 
hear  one  mentioned?" 

"I  do  not,"  with  increasing  asperity.  "If  a 
man  takes  a  mouthful  of  hot  coffee — " 

"You  are  drinking  tea,  are  you  not?" 

"The  point  is  immaterial." 

"Oh!" 

The  Countess  Theodora  returned  to  "The 
Bunmouth  Daily  Chronicle,"  but  she  did  not  prof- 


138  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

fer  any  more  extracts  from  its  contents  and  the 
subsequent  silence  was  glacial.  Count  Louis  de 
Beaulieu  took  a  third  helping  of  ham  and  eggs 
out  of  pure  panic  and  the  entry  of  the  waiter  with 
that  morning's  post  completed  his  confusion. 
The  waiter  was  Bunmouth's  pet  prodigy  and  the 
Count's  nightmare.  Rumour  or  local  pride  had 
it  that  he  could  speak  every  known  tongue,  and 
he  certainly  flavoured  his  conversation  with  a  suf- 
ficiently large  quantity  of  foreign  exclamations — 
more  or  less  profane — to  justify  the  assertion. 
The  Count  was  a  legitimate  prey. 

"Deux  lettres  pour  Monsieur  le  Comte." 

"Merci  bieng." 

"Et  une  pour  Madame  la  Comtesse." 

Madame  la  Comtesse  said  nothing  at  all,  but 
snatched  her  letter  from  the  tray  and  Monsieur 
le  Comte  realised  with  a  sinking  heart  that  his 
manners  were  not  as  Continental  as  they  should 
have  been.  Evidently  in  France  one  does  not  say 
"merci  bieng" — one  merely  snatches.  Chastened 
and  uneasy,  he  opened  the  long,  legal  looking  en- 
velope and  hurried  over  the  contents.  At  the 
end  he  draw  a  quick  sigh  of  relief.  Messrs.  Bil- 
lington  &  Boles  begged  to  inform  him  that  the 
matter  of  his  inheritance  was  now  satisfactorily 
settled.  The  executors  had  expressed  themselves 
convinced  by  the  proofs  of  his  identity,  and  the 
sum  of  £40,000  had  been  duly  paid  into  the  Bank 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  139 

of  England  to  his  credit.  Messrs.  Billington  & 
Boles  added  that  they  hoped  to  have  the  honour 
of  attending  to  the  Count  de  Beaulieu's  affairs  in 
the  future. 

"£40,000!"  said  the  Count  under  his  breath. 
He  glanced  involuntarily  across  the  table.  For 
one  very  beautiful  and  illusionary  moment  the  true 
state  of  affairs  was  forgotten.  He  was  the  Count 
de  Beaulieu  with  £40,000  in  cash,  an  estate  in 
Norfolk  and  a  lovely  wife.  Fortune  smiled  upon 
him,  and  he  too  smiled,  indifferent  to  the  extreme 
dubiousness  of  his  claim  to  these  various  posses- 
sions. 

As  though  aware  that  he  was  looking  at  her, 
the  Countess  lifted  her  eyes.  Her  face  was 
flushed,  and  all  the  laughter  and  mockery  had 
disappeared.  It  seemed  to  him  indeed  that  the 
tears  were  very  near  the  surface,  and  suddenly  he 
remembered  that  she  too  had  received  a  letter. 
From  whom?  From  her  parents?  A  reconcilia- 
tion, perhaps?  In  that  case  his  part  was  played 
out.  Chivalry  would  no  longer  require  him  to 
offer  his  protection — he  would  be  perfectly  free 
to  bolt  with  the  £40,000  and  anything  else  per- 
taining to  the  missing  Count  that  he  could  lay 
hands  on.  Nothing  could  be  more  propitious. 
He  was  nothing  to  her  and  she  was  nothing  to 
him.  It  was  curious  that  the  fact  left  him  unen- 


i4o  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

thusiastic.  On  the  contrary,  he  felt  dully  miser- 
able. 

"From  France?"  he  enquired  at  last  with  as- 
sumed indifference. 

"No." 

"Oh?"  He  wished  she  was  not  so  curt.  After 
all,  he  had  a  right  to  know.  He  was  her  hus- 
band in  spite  of  everything.  He  intended  to  as- 
sert his  authority.  "Might  I  enquire  from  whom 
your  letter  is  then?"  he  said. 

"You  may." 

"Theodora — I  expect  an  answer." 

"Do  you?"  In  spite  of  her  obvious  trouble  she 
smiled,  baffling,  and  truculent.  "Well,  as  it  hap- 
pens I  have  no  objection  to  answering.  This  let- 
ter is  from  a  friend — a  Mr.  Cecil  Saunders." 

"Indeed?" 

"And  he  is  coming  down  to  see  me." 

"Oh — does  it  not  occur  to  you  that  I  might 
object?" 

"No,  it  does  not.  The  idea,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances would  be  highly  ridiculous." 

"Indeed?" 

She  got  up,  still  smiling,  though  now  with  a 
touch  of  exasperation. 

"Your  repartee  is  a  trifle  monotonous,  Louis," 
she  said.  "You  should  endeavour  to  cultivate  a 
greater  variety  and  a  little  less  pomposity.  And 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  141 

now  for  the  present — au  revoir.  I  am  going  out 
in  the  grounds  for  some  fresh  air." 

Louis  stifled  a  third  "indeed?"  and  was  left 
staring  angrily  at  his  third  and  untouched  helping 
of  ham  and  eggs.  He  wondered  whether  all 
French  women  were  so  provoking — in  which  case 
he  thanked  Heaven  that  he  was  a  true-born  Eng- 
lishman even  though  a  bad  one.  And  yet — and 
yet !  He  rose  and  pushed  his  chair  viciously  un- 
der the  table.  One  thing  was  clear  in  his  mind 
— he  was  not  going  to  beat  a  retreat  before  this 
Mr.  Cecil  Saunders.  He  could  stick  to  his  guns 
and  his  wife  even  though  all  Scotland  Yard  were 
after  him.  After  all — there  was  no  proof  as  yet. 
And  then  he  caught  sight  of  George  and  the  whole 
precariousness  of  his  situation  revealed  itself  in 
that  grinning,  unalterably  amicable  countenance. 

"George!"  he  said  curtly. 

George  put  down  his  tray  and  with  it  his  re- 
spectful bearing  and  a  good  percentage  of  aspir- 
ants. 

"Well,  Bill,  dear!"  he  returned  cheerfully. 
"Wot's  your  call,  old  blighter?" 

"Come  here — and  for  pity's  sake  don't  shout 
like  that.  Look  here — things  can't  go  on  like 
this." 

George  agreed  with  a  jerk  of  the  bullet  head. 

"Now  you're  a-talkin'  sense,  my  cough-drop," 
he  said.  "Wot  concerns  yours  truly  the  joke's 


1 42  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

gettin'  too  stale.  Carryin'  round  plates  and 
brushin'  me  own  brother's  togs  is  a  very  pleasant 
sort  of  rest  cure  but  a  bit  wearin'.  If  there  was 
any  'opes  of  makin'  a  good  'awl  I  wouldn't  mind 
hobligin'  you  a  bit  longer,  but  outside  my  dear  old 
friend  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  there  ain't  a  soul  in 
the  blessed  place  wot's  got  so  much  as  a  genuine 
twinkler  and  I'm  a  'ard  workin'  man,  I  am — " 

"Well,  then,  George,  I've  got  a  job  for  you." 

"Lawks,  you  don't  say?" 

"It's  true.  I  want  you  to  steal  that — that  in- 
fernal necklace." 

"Wot — me  wedding-gift — from  'er  'Ighness, 
me  own  sister-in-law?  You  don't  mean  it,  Bill?" 

"I  do — I'm  in  deadly  earnest." 

"Bill,  me  feelin's  are  that  'urt — " 

"I  can't  help  it — you  must  get  those  pearls 
back."  The  Count  began  to  pace  restlessly  about 
the  room  whilst  George  watched  him  in  grieving 
sympathy.  "You  must  get  them  back,"  the  Count 
went  on.  "I'm  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  and 
run  any  risk,  but  those  pearls  must  be  given  back 
to  their  rightful  owner." 

"Bill,  you've  lost  a  slate — " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  Something's  wrong  with 
me.  I'm  not  the  man  I  was.  That  blow  on  the 
head  seems  to  have  spoilt  everything.  But  there 
the  fact  is — I  can't  go  on  nationalising  property, 
as  you  gracefully  express  it.  I'm  using  another 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  143 

man's  money  and — and  deceiving  a  trusting 
woman.  That's  bad  enough  for  me — I'm  not 
going  any  further.  The  real  Count  may  be  dead 
and  in  that  case  I  shall  endeavour — I  feel  it  my 
duty  to  endeavour  to  lead  an  honest  life.  And 
you've  got  to  help  me,  George." 

George  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 

"  'Ave  I  sunk  this  low?"  he  appealed  pathet- 
ically. 

"Don't  trifle — I've  said  that  I  am  in  deadly 
earnest.  Get  me  those  pearls  and  I'll  give  them 
back  to  their  owner.  I  don't  know  what  I  shall 
say  to  her — any  lie  will  do,  and  she'll  be  glad 
enough  to  swallow  anything.  After  that  I'm  go- 
ing to  keep  straight." 

"Yes,  that's  all  very  fine,  but  wot  abaut  yours 
truly?" 

"You?"  The  Count  de  Beaulieu  stopped  his 
restless  wandering  and  confronted  his  relative 
with  a  grave  but  softened  countenance.  "Get  me 
that  necklace  and  I'll  square  you  with  £500,"  he 
said.  "Afterwards — well,  you're  my  brother 
and  I'll  start  you  in  anything  you  like.  I'll  buy 
you  a  business  and  I'll  keep  you  on  your  legs — so 
long  as  you  keep  straight."  His  voice  rang  with 
a  new  enthusiasm.  He  saw  before  him  the  vista 
of  a  new  life  full  of  a  noble  generosity,  and  hon- 
est atonement  for  the  murky  past.  But  George 


144  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

drew  out  a  handkerchief  of  doubtful  antecedents 
and  mopped  his  eyes. 

"You're  beautiful,  Bill,"  he  said  in  accents  of 
stifled  emotion,  " — too  beautiful,  we've  never  'ad 
anythink  so  beautiful  in  the  family  before.  You'll 
die  young — I  knows  you  will,  my  poor  misguided 
brother." 

"Don't  jeer — I'm  not  mad — I'm  in  deadly  earn- 
est." 

George  looked  up  and  put  his  finger  vulgarly 
to  his  nose. 

"You  ain't  mad,"  he  said,  "and  you  ain't  in 
deadly  earnest.  It's  worse  than  all  that.  When 
a  man  with  your  talents  starts  bein'  honest  I 
knows  wot's  wrong  with  'im — 'e's  in  love,  that's 
wot  'e  is — and  that's  wot  you  are,  me  amatoor  sky- 
pilot!" 

The  Count's  eyeglass  and  his  jaw  dropped  si- 
multaneously, but  no  answer  occurred  to  him,  and 
by  the  time  he  had  begun  to  digest  the  full  pur- 
port of  the  accusation  the  accuser  had  crept  with 
professional  stealth  into  the  Countess'  bed-room. 


CHAPTER  X 

MRS.  PAGOT-CHUMP,  American  millionairess, 
sunned  herself  on  the  covered  verandah  of  Bun- 
mouth  Spa  Hotel.  Not  since  the  day  when  Mr. 
Pagot-Chump  had  made  his  record  corner  in 
wheat  had  she  felt  the  same  glow  of  worldly  suc- 
cess. It  was  not  a  great  success — no  members  of 
the  aristocracy  were  gathered  round  her — but  it 
was  at  least  complete.  On  either  hand  the  Spa's 
celebrities,  male  and  female,  sipped  their  tea  and 
listened  to  her  with  the  respect  for  millions  which 
is  the  only  form  of  veneration  known  to  the  twen- 
tieth century.  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump,  elated  and 
affable,  and  charming,  had  just  completed  her 
fourth  description  of  the  previous  night's  adven- 
ture. 

"It  isn't  the  value  of  the  pearls  I  mind,"  she 
concluded  pathetically.  "James  could  get  me  a 
finer  set  any  day,  but  it's  the  associations,  and  I 
guess  associations  can't  be  bought." 

"Indeed  not,"  said  her  neighbour,  a  young  cu- 
rate, whose  expression  eloquently  added — "How 
modest  of  you  to  say  so." 

"The  pearls  were  given  me  on  my  wedding- 
145 


146  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

day,"  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  went  on.  "A  friend 
gave  them  to  me — a  very  old  and  dear  friend — 
and  I'd  give  the  world  to  have  them  back."  She 
smiled  archly,  and  her  guests,  who  acted  as  a  sort 
of  Greek  Chorus,  simpered  after  her. 

"Pearls  stand  for  tears,"  said  an  elderly  spin- 
ster, with  a  coy  and  significant  glance. 

"Somebody's  gain  is  somebody's  loss,"  added 
the  curate  gallantly  sententious. 

"Which  reminds  me  of  a  sad  case  of  a  dear 
friend  of  mine,"  continued  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump, 
who  had  been  carefully  leading  up  to  this  point. 
"I  take  it  you  have  all  read  in  the  noospapers 
about  the  poor  young  French  nobleman  who  lost 
his  memory  under  most  distressing  circum- 
stances?" 

"Of  course.  'He  was  found  unconscious  on  a 
doorstep,  wasn't  he?"  put  in  the  spinster,  deter- 
mined on  proving  her  up-to-dateness. 

"That's  the  man.  Such  a  romantic  affair!  He 
couldn't  remember  anybody — not  even  the  young 
lady  who  had  run  away  from  home  to  marry  him. 
I  was  mighty  upset  when  I  heard  about  it.  We 
were  great  friends  out  in  the  States — a  nice,  cute 
young  fellow  and  of  the  very  best  French  family, 
you  know." 

By  this  time  the  tea-party,  as  was  expected  of 
them,  had  put  two  and  two  together,  with  the  re- 
sult that  the  rejected  suitor  whose  significant  pres- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  147 

ent  of  a  pearl  necklace  had  been  stolen,  was  raised 
promptly  into  the  ranks  of  the  French  peerage. 

"Why — let  me  think!"  exclaimed  the  curate 
eagerly.  "Aren't  you  talking  of  the  Count  de 
Beaulieu?" 

"Sure  I  am,"  said  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump,  well 
content  that  the  title  should  be  out  at  last. 

"Well,  then — he's  staying  in  this  very  hotel. 
I  saw  him  arrive  last  night!" 

Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  flushed  with  genuine  de- 
light. This  opportunity  of  proving  her  connec- 
tion with  "the  best  French  families"  was  worth 
more  than  any  pearls  to  her,  and  the  fact  that  the 
connection  in  question  had  been  bought  by  a  large 
monetary  loan  out  of  James  Pagot-Chump's 
pocket  did  not  in  the  least  detract  from  its  value. 

"You  don't  say!"  she  exclaimed.  "Well,  now, 
if  that  isn't  real  quaint!  And  to  think  I  didn't 
know!  The  world's  only  a  pocket  handkerchief 
after  all!  I  wonder  what  brought  him  here?" 

"If  I'm  not  much  mistaken,  the  Count  de  Beau- 
lieu  is  coming  towards  us  this  very  minute,"  said 
the  curate. 

Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  looked  up,  very  elate  and 
a  little  nervous.  She  was  shrewd  enough  to  know 
that  there  is  a  class  of  aristocrat  whose  degree  of 
friendship  for  his  democratic  friends  varies  with 
the  fluctuation  of  his  own  particular  money- 
market  and  at  the  time  of  their  acquaintance  the 


148  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

Count  had  been  very  "low"  indeed.  In  spite  of 
her  preparedness,  however,  she  was  only  just  able 
to  suppress  a  gasp,  for  the  young  man  who  was 
coming  towards  her  was  not  the  Count  de  Beau- 
lieu  as  she  had  known  him.  Her  mind,  once  hav- 
ing grasped  that  fact,  worked  with  amazing  ra- 
pidity. Somebody  "had  been  done  in  the  eye" 
as  James  would  have  expressed  it  in  his  Anglo- 
American  phraseology.  If  this  was  the  Count  de 
Beaulieu,  then  the  person  who  had  paid  her  such 
marked  attention  and  had  borrowed  from  her 
husband  with  such  inimitable  grace  was  nothing 
better  than  a  mountebank  and  a  fraud.  In  which 
case  she  would  become  a  laughing-stock,  she  would 
be  disgraced  and  her  social  prestige  held  up  to 
ridicule.  The  possibility  was  too  awful — the  risk 
too  serious.  She  rose  briskly  and  murmuring 
"Excoose  me,  won't  you?  Old  friend,  you 
know,"  she  tripped  to  meet  the  mysterious 
stranger.  Like  a  good  general  she  had  decided 
quickly  and  her  plan  of  action  once  made  she 
meant  to  stick  to  it.  By  hook  or  by  crook  she 
was  going  to  talk  to  that  young  man,  she  was  go- 
ing to  hold  him  in  an  amicable  conversation,  she 
was  going  to  win  him  over  to  an  appearance  of 
intimacy.  It  was  a  big  undertaking,  but  with  the 
eyes  of  Bunmouth  Spa  on  her,  defeat  was  unbear- 
able and  unthinkable.  Trusting  to  her  national 
fluency  and  considerable  personal  charms,  she  ad- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  149 

vanced  to  do  battle,  and  to  her  amazement — in- 
finitely to  her  relief — the  young  man  lifted  his 
hat. 

"Mrs.  Pagot-Chump,  I  believe?"  he  ventured. 
He  was  evidently  nervous — very  much  more  ner- 
vous than  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  was — and  that  fact 
gave  her  back  her  wavering  self-confidence. 

"My  dear  Count!"  she  exclaimed.  "So  de- 
lighted to  meet  you  again!" 

It  was  a  bold  stroke,  but,  as  is  the  way  with 
bold  strokes,  it  succeeded.  The  Count  took  the 
outstretched  hand,  blushed  and  stammered — 

"I  didn't  know  that  I — I  had  the  honour,"  he 
said  when  he  had  regained  a  certain  degree  of 
coherency.  "Indeed  I  didn't  know  that  I  knew 
anybody  here." 

"Don't  you  really  remember?"  she  asked  softly 
and  with  a  touch  of  smiling  reproach. 

The  Count  righted  himself — mentally  speaking 
— and  smiled  back. 

"Ton  my  word,  I  don't!"  he  admitted,  "but 
then  perhaps  you  have  heard — I've  lost  my  mem- 
ory through  an  accident,  you  know.  You  might 
forgive  me  on  that  score." 

"Of  course  I  will — right  away.  My  name  is 
Pagot-Chump — Mary  Pagot-Chump.  We  met  in 
Noo  York.  And  I'm  glad  as  can  be  that  we've 
met  again.  James  and  I  have  never  forgotten 
you  at  any  rate." 


150  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"It's  very  nice  of  you  to  say  so,"  murmured  the 
Count.  He  hesitated,  digging  in  the  gravel  with 
the  point  of  his  stick.  "I  can't  tell  you  how 
pleased  and  relieved  I  am,"  he  went  on  jerkily. 
"It  makes  it  easier  for  me.  I  wanted  to  speak 
to  you — in  fact — "  he  stopped  again.  "In  fact 
I  have  a  favour  to  ask,"  he  blurted  out. 

"Well,  suppose  you  give  me  your  arm,"  she  sug- 
gested shrewdly.  "When  we  get  away  from 
these  good  folk  you  can  tell  me  about  it." 

He  obeyed  and  she  felt  that  he  was  trembling. 
She  wondered  if  this  "Count"  was  also  in  a  "tem- 
porary financial  embarrassment"  and  how  much 
his  friendship  was  likely  to  cost  the  long-suffering 
James.  Under  the  circumstances  she  felt  it  would 
be  cheap  at  any  price  and,  conscious  of  eager, 
watching  eyes,  her  manner  grew  increasingly  gra- 
cious. 

"Just  you  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you, 
Count,"  she  encouraged.  "Anything  is  a  pleas- 
ure when  it's  for  an  old  friend." 

"You  are  most  kind,"  the  Count  murmured 
again.  "To  tell  you  the  truth  all  I  ask  of  you  is 
to — er — accept  something  of — er — value  without 
explanations — in  fact  without  asking  questions." 

They  had  reached  a  solitary  by-path  in  the 
hotel  grounds,  and  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  stopped 
short. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  151 

"Do  you  realise  that  it's  a  woman  you're  talk- 
ing to,  Count?"  she  asked. 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump." 

"Well,  then,  doesn't  it  strike  you  as  a  rather 
tall  order?" 

"I  know — I  know!"  He  looked  at  her  with 
miserable  appeal.  "I  know,  but  I  can't  help  my- 
self. I  must  just  fling  myself  blindly  on  your 
mercy.  There — there  are  your  pearls!" 

He  fairly  thrust  them  on  her  and  when  they 
were  safely  in  her  hands  he  heaved  a  sigh  of 
relief.  "There — there — I've  done  it,"  he  said. 
"You  can  think  what  you  like.  I  can't  tell  you 
how  I  came  by  them — I  can't  and  I  shan't.  You 
can  send  for  the  police  if  you  like — you  have 
every  right  to  do  so — but  at  any  rate  I've  given 
them  back.  Anyhow,  sooner  or  later — "  He 
stopped  again,  his  lips  firmly  compressed,  and 
Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  looked  at  him  with  an  ex- 
pression of  amused  interest  on  her  charming  face. 
The  recovery  of  her  jewels  did  not  please  her  half 
so  much  as  this  good-looking  and  most  unusual 
young  man. 

"I  guess  you  look  honest  enough,  Count,"  she 
observed  critically. 

"I  feel  honest,"  he  admitted,  though  in  the  tone 
of  one  confronted  with  an  enigma. 

"And  suppose  I  strangle  my  femininity,  don't 
ask  questions  and  tell  your  somnolent  police  that 


152  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

I've  made  almost  as  big  a  fool  of  myself  as  they 
have?" 

" — then  count  on  me  as  your  devoted  servant 
for  life!" 

Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  smiled.  Not  in  vain  was 
she  the  wife  of  a  "Wheat  King." 

"I  guess  it's  a  bargain,  Count,"  she  said. 

"I  guess  you're  an  angel,"  said  the  Count  with 
gallant  enthusiasm,  and  kissed  the  small  extended 
hand. 

And  it  was  at  that  precise  and  critical  moment 
that  the  Countess  Theodora  turned  the  corner  of 
the  shrubbery. 

The  three  members  of  the  trio  saw  each  other 
simultaneously  and  there  was  a  short  electric 
silence.  The  Count  dropped  the  small  hand  as 
though  he  had  been  struck  with  paralysis,  and 
Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  looked  from  one  blank  face 
to  the  other  with  a  puzzled  good-nature. 

"If  this  is  the  Countess,  I  guess  you  might  in- 
troduce us  to  one  another,  Count,"  she  said. 

The  Count  made  an  effort. 

"Theo — this  is  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump,"  he  jerked 
out, — "an  old  friend — " 

"I  am  delighted."  She  came  slowly  forward, 
her  small  graceful  head  held  very  high,  her  face 
pale  but  composed.  "It  seems  your  memory  must 
be  returning,"  she  went  on.  "This  morning  you 
told  me—" 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  153 

"Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  reminded  me  of  our  old 
acquaintanceship,"  he  interrupted  despairingly. 

"The  Count  and  I  were  great  friends  out  in 
the  States,"  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  explained  still 
buoyant  and  conciliatory.  "It's  a  real  treat  to 
have  met  you,  Countess,  and  if  you  two  would  do 
me  the  honour  to  have  lunch  with  me  I'd  be  more 
than  delighted — " 

"I  thank  you — you  are  most  kind.  Unfortu- 
nately I  must  ask  my  husband  to  accompany  me 
at  once.  I  have  just  discovered  that  my  boxes 
have  been  broken  into — and — "  She  stopped 
short.  The  Count  closed  his  eyes  in  the  instinc- 
tive endeavour  to  shut  out  the  coming  catastrophe. 
She  had  seen  the  jewel  case  in  Mrs.  Pagot- 
Chump's  hand.  Nothing  could  save  him  now. 
And  yet  for  the  second  time  in  his  short  disturbed 
honeymoon  the  catastrophe  hung  fire.  From 
afar  off — as  it  seemed  to  him — Mrs.  Pagot- 
Chump's  high-pitched  voice  was  enquiring  with 
natural  excitement  as  to  the  loss  and  he  heard  his 
wife's  cold  level  answer — " 

"No,  nothing  of  the  least  value  was  taken, 
thank  you.  Still,  the  matter  should  be  investi- 
gated. Louis,  if  you  could  spare  me  a  few  min- 
utes—?" 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  met  her  steady  gaze 
with  a  speechless  gratitude.  She  had  deliber- 


i54  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

ately  saved  him — that  was  the  one  thing  which 
stood  out  clearly  in  the  chaos  of  his  emotions. 

"I  will  come  with  you  at  once,"  he  said  quickly. 
"I  am  sure,  under  the  circumstances,  you  will  ex- 
cuse us,  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump." 

Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  bowed  her  head  graciously. 
She  scented  mischief  and  there  was  already  a 
gleam  of  understanding  in  her  keen  eyes. 

"Meet  you  both  again,  Count,"  she  said.  "And 
don't  forget  our  bargain!" 

In  painful  silence  the  Count  accompanied  his 
wife  down  the  path  which  led  back  to  the  hotel. 
The  moment  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  had  dropped  out 
of  sight  the  Count  stopped  short.  His  face  was 
flushed  but  resolute. 

"Theodora,"  he  said,  "you  were  splendid — I 
can't  thank  you  enough — " 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  thank  me  at  all,"  she  in- 
terrupted, "I  did  it  for  my  own  sake.  I  did  not 

want  to  admit  that — that  I  was  married  to  a — 
a " 

" — a  what?"  he  demanded. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  call  you." 

" — a  scoundrel?"  he  suggested  bitterly. 

"If  you  like  to  dub  yourself — yes." 

"All  the  same — I  owe  you  an  explanation,"  he 
persisted  with  the  determination  of  despair.  "It's 
extremely  hard — " 

"So  I  should  imagine."     Her  lips  curled  con- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  155 

temptuously.  "How  long  have  you  known  that 
— that  woman?" 

"Theodora — I  don't  know  her — " 

"You  said  she  was  an  old  acquaintance." 

"She  said  so— I  didn't." 

She  stopped  short  and  looked  at  him  with 
haughty  severity. 

"Did  you  intend  those  pearls  for  me  or  did 
you  not?" 

He  tried  to  lie,  but  his  imagination  failed  him. 

"No— I  did  not— I—" 

"Did  you  take  those  pearls  from  my  box  to 
give  to  her?" 

"George  took  them  for  me — " 

"So?  You  have  encouraged  an  honest  man  on 
the  road  to  dishonesty?  Really,  I  am  filled  with 
admiration!" 

"Theodora—" 

She  waved  his  extended  hand  aside. 

"Thank  you — you  have  explained  enough.  I 
have  quite  understood.  Your  valet  made  an  un- 
fortunate mistake  in  supposing  that  so  valuable  a 
gift  would  have  been  intended  for  your  wife,  and 
I  made  the  worse  mistake  of  believing  him.  I 
apologise  for  the  inconvenience  I  have  caused  you. 
At  the  same  time" — and  at  this  point  her  voice 
shook — "it  would  have  been  kinder  if  you  had 
told  me  the  truth  instead  of  acting  as — as  you 
have  done." 


156  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Theo — won't  you  listen  to  me?" 

"No.  If  I  cared  for  you,  it  would  be  different. 
As  it  is,  an  explanation  is  unnecessary  and  stupid." 

She  walked  on,  and  he  followed  in  seething 
silence.  Her  last  remark  rankled — goaded  him 
to  a  wild,  ridiculous  attack. 

"If  you  don't  care,  I  wonder  why  you  are  cry- 
ing?" he  asked,  with  a  thin  covering  of  mild  cu- 
riosity. "Are  you  perhaps — jealous?" 

She  turned  round  on  him,  crimson  with  anger, 
the  tears  flashing  like  diamonds  in  her  bright  eyes. 

"I  am  not  crying — and  if  I  was  it  would  be 
because — because  I  hate  and  loathe  you !" 

"Oh!"  said  the  Count.  He  stood  and  stared 
after  her  until  the  slight,  erect  figure  had  disap- 
peared in  the  porch  of  the  hotel. 


CHAPTER  XI 

SUSAN,  scullery-maid-in-chief  to  the  Bunmouth 
Spa  Hotel,  stood  by  the  scullery  window  and 
peeled  multitudinous  potatoes.  At  intervals  a 
white-capped  head  appeared  round  the  door  and 
a  masculine  voice,  softened  by  the  dulcet  influence 
of  the  French  language,  enquired  patiently  if 
Mademoiselle  Suzanne  was  not  yet  finished  with 
"ces  maudites  pommes  de  terre."  Twice  Made- 
moiselle Suzanne,  with  her  eye  on  the  window 
which  looked  out  on  to  the  stable-yard,  replied  by 
a  sniff,  the  third  time  she  waxed  indignant. 

"If  you  mean  the  taters,  why  don't  you  call 
them  by  their  proper  name?"  she  demanded. 
"Taters  is  taters,  and  they  won't  be  done  for  an- 
other half  hour.  So  now  you  know  I" 

Thereupon  she  began  to  sing  in  the  peculiarly 
high-pitched  tuneless  way  for  which  scullery-maids 
are  noted,  and  Monsieur  Bonnet  shook  his  head 
ruefully. 

"Thou  art  not  gentille,  Mademoiselle  Su- 
zanne," he  said.  "Thou  'ast  not  been  gentille 
for  many  days  past." 

157 


158  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"What's  'gentille'?"  she  enquired  freezingly. 
"And  why  will  you  say  'thee'  ?  'Tain't  English  ?" 

Monsieur  waved  his  arms  with  a  movement  of 
despair. 

"English  is  a  language  without  tenderness,"  he 
began.  "I  try  to  soften  her — I  try  to  fill  her  with 
ze  tendresse  of  ze  French — but  it  avails  me  not. 
She  remains  ze  language  of  ze  barbares — " 

"Barbers,  indeed!"  Susan  interrupted  with  en- 
ergy. "I  don't  see  wot  you  need  to  be  so 
haughty  about.  You're  only  a  cook  yourself." 

"Helas,  Suzanne,  you  'ave  not  understood — " 

"Go  along  with  you!"  Susan  retorted  crisply. 

Monsieur  Bonnet  found  no  answer  to  this.  He 
stood  with  folded  arms  and  knitted  brows  and 
eyed  her  with  the  gloomy  despair  of  a  defeated 
Napoleon.  No  one,  not  even  the  hotel  manager, 
dared  to  speak  to  him,  Monsieur  Bonnet,  world- 
famous  gastronomer,  as  did  this  little  fair-haired, 
blue-eyed,  rosy-cheeked  bundle  of  impertinence. 
Why  did  he  bear  it?  Why  did  he  not  send  her 
to  the  right-about  as  he  had  done  dozens  of  other 
clumsy  but  willing  spirits?  Monsieur  Bonnet 
shook  his  head  over  himself.  Therein  lay  the 
curse  of  the  artistic  temperament;  against  tears 
and  entreaties  he  had  a  heart  of  adamant,  but  fair 
hair,  rosy  cheeks  and  blue  eyes  could  blind  him  to 
anything  and  everything  and  melt  him  to  a  soft- 
ness unequalled  by  his  own  butter.  So  he  sighed 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  159 

and  scratched  his  little  black  Imperial  and  sighed 
again. 

"Ever  since  that  fellow  'as  been  'ere  thou  art 
not  more  the  same  to  me,"  he  said  pathetically. 
"It  is  'Monsieur  Bonnet  this'  and  'Monsieur  Bon- 
net that'  and  not  once  'ast  thou  called  me  'Fran- 
gois'  as  in  the  old  days.  Suzanne — " 

"My  name's  'Susan',"  interrupted  his  tormentor 
with  energy.  "I'm  English,  I  am,  and  I  don't 
hold  with  these  nasty  foreign  words." 

"Ah!"  Monsieur  Bonnet  brought  his  clenched 
fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  gust  of  violence  which 
sent  a  couple  of  potatoes  rolling  under  the  sink. 
"Ah,  I  'ave  understood!  It  is  zat  Georges,  zat 
sneak,  zat  poltroon,  zat  rogue  of  a  gentleman's 
gentleman!  Shall  I  tell  him — I  believe  not  in  ze 
Count  de  Beaulieu.  'E  call  'imself  a  Frenchman 
and  when  Jean  speak  to  'im  'e  answer  as  no 
Frenchman  ever  speaked.  And  this  George,  this 
calf  who  makes  'is  eyes  at  thee — " 

"Please  remember  that  you  are  speaking  of  a 
friend  of  mine,"  Susan  broke  in  with  dignity. 

"Friend!     I  say  'e  is  a  rogue — a — " 

"Now  then,  who's  calling  me  names?"  came 
through  the  window.  Both  combatants  started 
— Monsieur  Bonnet  with  fury,  Susan  with  a 
slightly  exaggerated  delight.  George,  very 
spruce,  with  oiled  hair  and  neatly  waxed  mous- 
tache, was  leaning  against  the  window-sill,  an  ex- 


160  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

pression  of  patronising  benevolence  on  his  smooth 
face. 

"You  get  along,  Cooky,"  he  added  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand.  "Your  omelettes  are  burning.  I 
can  smell  'em  from  here." 

"Bah !"  said  Monsieur  Bonnet  scornfully. 
Nevertheless  the  professional  instinct  was  roused. 
He  sniffed  the  air  suspiciously,  he  hesitated,  glar- 
ing furiously  from  Susan  to  the  new-comer  and 
then,  with  a  snort  of  fury,  stamped  back  into  the 
kitchen.  Susan's  silver  giggle  pursued  him  with 
malicious  triumph  and  George  joined  in,  in  a  pe- 
culiar noiseless  way  which  Susan  felt  was  highly 
superior. 

"You're  a  nice  one !"  she  gurgled  with  mock  re- 
proof. "That  will  make  him  wild  for  a  week." 

"Serves  him  right!"  George  asserted.  "Hasn't 
got  the  manners  of  a  cheesemonger.  'Pon  my 
word,  I  can't  think  how  you  can  stand  him, 
Susan." 

"Oh,  I've  known  worse,"  said  Susan  with  a  half 
regretful  glance  at  the  kitchen. 

"I  mean,"  insinuated  George,  "you're  a  long 
way  too  good  for  this  sort  of  job.  From  the  first 
moment  I  saw  you  I  felt  you  was  different  from 
the  rest.  There  was  something  about  you  that 
told  me  that  you  was  meant  for  a  higher  des- 
tiny." 

"Now  you're  talking,"  said  Susan.     "You're 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  161 

only  a  sort  of  waiter  yourself.  Monsieur  Bonnet 
is  just  as  good  as  your  boss  any  day." 

"If  you  mean  the  Count  de  Beaulieu,  you're  off 
the  track,"  George  observed  mysteriously.  "To 
the  world  we  may  seem  as  master  and  man — but 
trust  me,  there  is  more  between  us  than  meets 
the  eye." 

"I  saw  you  brushing  his  trousers,"  retorted 
Susan  doubtfully. 

"Circumstances,  my  dear,  circumstances  over 
which  the  strongest  have  no  control." 

Susan  sniffed. 

"Monsieur  Bonnet  doesn't  believe  he  is  a 
Count,"  she  said.  "He  says  he  can't  even  speak 
French." 

George  lifted  a  supercilious  eyebrow. 

"You  don't  really  suppose  the  Count  de  Beau- 
lieu  talks  the  same  French  as  a  common  cook,  do 
you?"  he  asked. 

Susan  ruminated. 

"I  s'pose  not,"  she  admitted  doubtfully. 

"Of  course  not.  Monsieur  Bonnet  doesn't 
know  anything  about  Counts." 

"What  do  you  know  about  'em  anyhow?"  in  a 
rather  ruffled  tone.  "You  aren't  such  a  toff  your- 
self and  Monsieur  Bonnet  doesn't  believe  you're 
even  honest." 

"Me — honest?  I  should  think — "  George 
stopped  short,  coughed,  and  waved  a  scented 


1 62  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

handkerchief  as  though  to  purify  a  tainted  atmos- 
phere. Then  a  slow  smile  such  as  heralds  the 
birth  of  a  great  idea  dawned  over  his  face.  "Su- 
san, can  you  keep  a  secret?" 

"You  try  1"  she  encouraged  non-committally. 

"Look  here,  if  you  found  a  man  sitting  on  a 
doorstep  in  a  dirty  old  suit  and  not  so  much  as  a 
pocket  handkerchief  to  call  his  own,  wouldn't  you 
be  surprised  if  you  heard  he  was  a  Count?" 

"Oh,  only  a  little !"  with  sarcasm  and  an  impa- 
tient jab  at  a  harmless  potato. 

"Well,  that  shows  what  you  know  about 
Counts  1  That's  what  happened  to  my  friend  de 
Beaulieu.  He  didn't  know  who  he  was  himself 
until  his  girl  who  had  run  away  to  marry  him 
claimed  him.  Seems  a  queer  story,  doesn't  it?" 

At  this  the  luckless  potato  received  such  a  mu- 
tilating slash  that  Susan  thought  it  better  to  let 
it  roll  discreetly  after  its  companions  under  the 
sink.  Her  whole  face  shaped  itself  into  an  "Oh" 
of  awed  interest. 

"I  calls  it  romantic,"  she  declared  solemnly. 

"Well,  I  know  queerer  things  than  that," 
George  asserted. 

From  that  moment  five  brown-coated  potatoes 
lay  sorrowful  and  neglected  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pan  whilst  Susan  soared  through  realms  where 
dukes  and  lords,  not  to  mention  counts,  are  sup- 
posed to  flourish  in  delightful  superabundance. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  163 

She  planted  her  elbows  on  the  window-sill  and 
gazed  up  into  her  companion's  face. 

"You  go  on!"  she  pleaded.     "I  won't  tell!" 

Thereupon  George  folded  his  arms,  and  his 
expression  grew  sombrely  mysterious. 

"Aristocrats  have  to  play  strange  parts  in  the 
world's  history,"  he  began.  "There  was  once  a 
young  man — Count  de  Beautemps  he  was  called 
— who  had  to  take  the  position  of  a  servant.  He 
was  of  the  noblest  French  blood  and  yet  he  had 
to  brush  his  master's  trousers  just  as  you  have 
seen  me  do." 

"Why?"  queried  Susan,  not  unnaturally. 

"Political  reasons,"  was  the  dark  answer.  "In 
France  they  cut  off  heads  like  you  peel  a  potato." 

"Wot  happened  to  'im?"  Susan  persisted. 

"He  fell  in  love,"  said  George  solemnly. 

Susan  indicated  by  a  jerk  of  the  head  that  she 
had  guessed  that  much. 

"Who  with?"  she  demanded. 

"Ah,  that's  where  the  romance  comes  in,  as  you 
might  say."  George's  voice  deepened.  His  eyes 
filled  with  a  tender  significance.  "She  was  be- 
neath him,  Susan,  but  she  had  a  heart  of  gold. 
She  knew  him  for  what  he  was  when  the  whole 
world  despised  him.  She  helped  him  against  his 
enemies  and  he  loved  her  for  it,  Susan.  As 
Shakespeare  says,  'What  is  a  coronet  to  a  noble 
heart'?"  His  hand  glided  towards  hers  and  held 


1 64  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

it  in  a  tender  pressure.  "Susan,  can't  you 
guess — ?" 

"Lawks — 'tain't  true — " 

"I  swear  it  by  my  honour  as  a  gentleman.  Take 
this  as  a  proof  of  my  devotion!  One  day  I  will 
reclaim  it  and  you." 

Susan  gazed  open-mouthed  ^at  the  crested  signet 
ring  which  he  had  thrust  into  her  hand.  More 
than  the  gift  his  change  of  manner  from  the  airy 
ease  of  the  cockney  valet  to  the  grandiloquent  ges- 
ture of  romance  filled  her  with  a  delicious  con- 
fidence. George  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes. 
"The  last  of  a  once  princely  fortune,"  he  mur- 
mured with  emotion. 

"Oh,  sir — !"  Susan  gasped. 

"I  am  not  'sir'  to  you !"  he  interrupted  softly. 

At  that  moment  Monsieur  Bonnet,  having  re- 
adjusted the  matter  of  the  omelettes  and  having 
violently  scolded  his  subordinates,  made  his  ap- 
pearance to  discover  why  the  potatoes  had  not 
made  theirs.  Susan's  attitude  with  her  head 
against  George's  shoulder  offered  sufficient  expla- 
nation. Monsieur  Bonnet  shot  forward  ejacu- 
lating "ha"  in  a  crescendo  of  fury,  and  thrust  the 
chief  offender  from  his  perch  on  the  window-sill. 

"Thus  my  potatoes  are  they  treated!"  he 
shrieked.  "Thus  are  the  precious  hours  wasted! 
Away  with  you — you — you — "  He  found  no 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  165 

English  epithet  to  fit  the  situation,  and  George 
gathered  himself  up  slowly  from  the  cobbles. 

"You  do  not  know  to  whom  you  speak,"  he  said 
with  dignity. 

"Scelerat — rogue — vagabond!"  Monsieur  Bon- 
net retorted. 

"You  shall  apologise  for  this,"  George  proph- 
esied, dusting  the  knees  of  his  trousers. 

"Bah!" 

"I  say  you  shall  apologise,"  George  persisted, 
and  then  with  a  solemn  gesture  directed  at  Susan 
—•"Remember!" 

Susan  kissed  her  hand  by  way  of  response,  and 
the  next  minute  the  contents  of  the  potato  tub 
swept  down  upon  the  intruder.  Susan  screamed, 
then  as  George,  shaking  himself  free  of  the  del- 
uge, retired  out  of  range,  burst  into  a  stream  of 
tears. 

"You  don't  know  what  you've  done!"  she 
sobbed.  "He's  a  gentleman — a  real  count  in  dis- 
guise." 

"Bah!"  Monsieur  Bonnet  snapped  his  fingers 
after  the  retreating  George.  "  'E  is  a  liar  in  no 
disguise  at  all.  Foolish  misguided  woman!" 

"I'm  not!"  protested  Susan,  goaded  to  self- 
defence. 

Monsieur  Bonnet,  still  hot  with  victory,  gazed 
upon  her  with  righteous  indignation.  But  then 
the  blue  eyes,  tear-filled,  came  into  play,  and  the 


166  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

usual  melting  process  in  Monsieur  Bonnet's  heart 
began. 

"Suzanne!"  His  voice  grew  soft  and  persua- 
sive, "Suzanne — weep  not.  I  am  a  much  tried 
man — if  I  am  a  little  angry  who  shall  wonder? 
Voyons,  for  the  hundredth  time — let  there  be 
peace  between  us — wilt  thou  marry  me,  ma 
petite?" 

But  Susan,  still  on  aristocratic  heights,  merely 
emitted  a  sniff  of  inexpressible  hauteur. 

"Do  you  think,"  she  said  eyeing  him  from  head 
to  foot,  "do  you  really  think  I'd  marry  a  cook!" 

And  with  this  Parthian  shot  she  flounced  out 
into  the  kitchen. 


CHAPTER  XII 

As  George,  heated  and  indignant,  made  his 
way  up  the  front  steps  of  the  Bunmouth  Spa 
Hotel,  a  young  man  with  a  fair  moustache  and 
a  general  appearance  of  extreme  boredom  came 
down.  As  a  result  of  George's  indignation  and 
the  stranger's  indifference  to  all  things  earthly 
they  collided. 

"Can't  you  see  where  you're  going?"  George 
enquired  with  polite  concern. 

The  stranger  brushed  off  imaginary  results  of 
the  encounter. 

"My  good  fellow,  I  imagine  it  is  your  business 
to  get  out  of  my  way,"  he  observed. 

"Oh,  do  you?     And  who  do  you  think  I  am?" 

"You  have  been  pointed  out  to  me  as  the  Count 
de  Beaulieu's  valet." 

"Oh,  indeed.  Well,  perhaps  you  aren't  quite 
as  bright  as  you  think  you  are."  George  made 
an  attempt  to  pass,  but  the  stranger  stretched  out 
two  detaining  fingers. 

"Do  you  want  to  earn  half  a  crown?"  he  asked. 

George  shuddered. 

167 


1 68  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Wot  a  nasty  idea!"  he  said.  "I'll  think 
about  it." 

"Because  if  you  do,  take  this  letter  and  give  it 
to  the  Countess  of  Beaulieu.  Say  that  I'll  wait 
for  her  in  the  garden." 

"Aren't  you  afraid  she'll  die  of  joy?" 

"You  are  an  extremely  impertinent  fellow.  I 
understand  that  the  Count  is  giving  a  reception. 
Kindly  deliver  this  letter  at  once." 

"Permit  me  to  lick  your  boots  for  you,"  George 
implored  with  mock  humility.  But  the  stranger 
had  apparently  no  use  for  this  offer  and,  after  a 
moment's  consideration,  George  pocketed  the 
half-crown  and  the  letter,  and  having  performed 
a  deep  bow  proceeded  upstairs. 

He  found  the  Count  de  Beaulieu's  suite  evi- 
dently prepared  to  receive  guests,  but  the  Count 
and  Countess  themselves,  who  stood  at  either  end 
of  the  room,  watched  the  waiter's  proceedings  as 
though  a  funeral  ceremony  was  in  progress.  Since 
the  episode  of  the  pearl-necklace  a  kind  of  armed 
neutrality  had  been  established  between  them,  but 
the  compact,  such  as  it  was,  was  at  the  moment 
of  George's  entry  undergoing  a  serious  rupture. 
The  skirmish  had  been  opened  by  the  Count,  who 
had  innocently  remarked  that  Dr.  Frohlocken's 
train  must  be  overdue. 

"I  cannot  think  why  you  have  invited  him  at 
all,"  the  Countess  had  retorted. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  169 

"We  owe  Dr.  Frohlocken  a  great  deal." 

"Do  we?"  with  bitter  significance. 

"I  do,  at  least." 

"I  suppose  that  is  why  you  have  invited  this — 
this  person — this  Mrs.  Bugot-Chump — " 

"Pagot-Chump,  Theodora." 

"Her  name  is  nothing  to  me.  I  consider  it  an 
— an  insult  to  have  asked  her."  Tears  had  been 
very  manifest,  and  the  Count  had  made  a  valiant 
attempt  to  avert  the  threatening  storm. 

"My  dear  Theo,  I  can't  help  myself.  It  seems 
I  am  under  some  obligation  to  her.  My  loss  of 
memory  does  not  do  away  with  the  fact  that  I 
have  a  past — " 

"So  it  seems!" 

"And  I  expect  you  to  treat  my  friends  as  your 
friends,"  the  Count  had  finished,  goaded  by  the 
sneer. 

"If — if  I  were  in  the  least  inclined  to  be  in- 
terested I  should  suspect  that  there  was  more  be- 
tween you  than  you  care  to  confess — " 

"My  dear  girl — "  But  the  unconscious  truth 
of  the  suggestion  cut  short  the  Count's  flood  of 
eloquent  protest  and  only  George's  entry  pre- 
vented the  victor  from  following  up  the  pursuit. 

"If  you  please,"  said  George,  still  flushed  with 
indignation,  "there's  a  gentleman  in  the  garden 
waiting  to  see  your  Ladyship,  and  he  sent  this 
letter."  George's  manner  lacked  its  usual  polish, 


170  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

but  neither  Theodora  nor  Louis  were  in  a  mood 
to  notice  the  fact.  Theodora  had  grown  pale, 
and  she  tore  open  the  envelope  with  trembling 
fingers. 

"It's  from  Cecil  Saunders,"  she  said  at  last, 
meeting  her  husband's  eye  with  defiance.  "He's 
in  Bunmouth." 

"Indeed.     And  pray  what  does  he  want?" 

"He  wants  to  see  me." 

"Well,  I  object.  We  are  waiting  to  receive 
our  friends — " 

"I  shall  bring  him  here,  then." 

Quite  suddenly  the  Count  lost  his  temper. 

"I  forbid  you,  Theodora." 

"I  expect  you  to  treat  my  friends  as  yours," 
quoted  the  Countess  mockingly. 

"Theodora — if  I  were  inclined  to  be  jealous — " 

"Do  try  to  be  more  original!"  said  the  Count- 
ess with  annoyance. 

The  Count  hesitated.     Then  his  tone  softened. 

"Please — Theodora — consider  my  feelings. 
It's  absurd  to  talk  of  jealousy,  I  know,  but  still 
you  are  my  wife — and — and  I  don't  know  this 
Saunders — in  fact  none  of  our  party  know  him. 
It  will  spoil  everything.  I  don't  want  to  seem 
unreasonable,  but  I  have  a  feeling  that  I  shall 
dislike  the  fellow — " 

"Well,  I  dislike  this  Mrs.  Bagot-Chump— " 

"Theo,  I  have  explained  the  circumstances  al- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  171 

most  as  often  as  I  have  told  you  the  unfortunate 
lady's  name.  I  am  under  obligations  to  her — " 

"And  I  am  under  obligations  to  my — my 
friend." 

"That  is  another  thing  altogether." 

"Anyhow  I  shall  bring  him  up  here." 

"If  you  do—" 

The  end  of  the  threat — if  there  was  an  end — 
was  lost.  The  Countess  swept  out  of  the  room 
amidst  a  frou-frou  of  silk  and  chiffon,  and  the 
Count,  with  a  gesture  of  resignation,  turned  to 
find  George  seated  in  the  armchair  by  the  fire- 
place with  his  feet  upon  the  fender. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  doing?"  the  Count 
demanded. 

"Accustoming  myself  to  my  noo  situation," 
George  explained  pleasantly. 

"Get  up  at  once.  Supposing  someone  came  in 
and  found  you — " 

" — that's  what  they're  going  to  do,  dear  bird. 
Now,  don't  you  get  rorty — there  ain't  nothing  to 
excite  yourself  about." 

"For  pity's  sake  explain." 

George  waved  his  hand  towards  the  door. 

"That's  my  last  job,"  he  said  cryptically. 

"I  don't  see—" 

"In  plain  English,  brother,  I've  guv  notice. 
I'm  fed  up,  I  am.  I  *ave  borne  with  a  lot  to 
please  you  and  come  up  to  my  fraternal  duties, 


i72  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

but  when  it  comes  to  a  bloomin'  French  cook 
pourin'  potato-skins  over  me — well,  I  strike,  and 
I've  struck.  You'll  'ave  to  look  for  a  new  valet, 
dear  one." 

"Thank  Heaven,"  said  the  Count  fervently. 
"You'd  better  be  off  at  once,  hadn't  you?"  he 
suggested. 

"Me  off?  Oh,  I  ain't  in  no  'urry.  I  enjoys  a 
little  'family  party'  like  this." 

"Look  here,  though,  you  must  clear  out  before 
people  come." 

"Me — ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  You  introduce  me 
as  your  cousin,  Count  de  Bontemps,  who's  been 
disguised  as  your  valet  for  grave  political  rea- 
sons. They'll  swallow  me  like  butter." 

"You — 1"  The  unhappy  young  man  folded  his 
arms  in  an  attitude  of  utter  exasperation.  "You 
a  Count!!" 

George  leered. 

"I'm  just  as  good  a  count  as  you  are  any  day," 
he  observed.  "  'Ave  you  forgotten  the  tender 
bond  of  brotherhood?" 

"Why,  you  can't  even  behave  like  a  gentleman," 
burst  in  the  Count,  in  a  falsetto  of  indignation. 

George  got  up ;  pulled  down  his  waistcoat.  It 
was  as  though  a  magician  had  waved  a  wand  over 
him. 

"My  dear  Beaulieu,"  he  said,  "in  the  matter 
of  manners  I  believe  I  have  nothing  to  learn  from 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  173 

a  person  who  screams  like  a  madman  and  appears 
to  forget  that  by  the  unwritten  laws  of  hospi- 
tality—" 

"For  mercy's  sake  don't  jump  about  from  your 
vulgar  cockney  to  that  high-flown  stuff,"  his 
brother  pleaded.  "It  makes  my  head  whirl." 

"It's  all  part  of  the  trade,"  George  explained 
airily.  "I  can  be  anything  at  any  minute.  Mrs. 
Jubbers  is  like  that  too.  You  should  see  her  as 
the  Duchess  of  Kolderado — " 

"I  don't  want  to  see  Mrs.  Jubbers  as  anything." 

"That's  a  pity.  I  thought  of  trotting  her 
down  as  a  mutual  aunt.  Well,  never  mind,  I 
daresay  one  new-found  Count  is  enough  for  an 
afternoon.  As  I  was  saying,  I  am  a  man  of 
many  parts.  In  private  life  or  during  compulsory 
rest-cures  I  drop  'hs.'  At  other  times  I  can 
talk  any  lingo  you  like.  Would  you  like  a  sam- 
ple of  French — ?" 

"Good  Heavens — no!" 

Voices  sounded  outside.  Monsieur  de  Beau- 
lieu  heard  his  wife's  laugh — a  little  uneasy,  he 
thought — and  then  a  detestable  masculine  bass. 
George  leant  forward,  his  face  had  become  dia- 
bolically threatening. 

"If  you  don't  give  me  out  as  your  cousin,  I'll 
give  you  away,"  he  said  in  a  sepulchral  whisper. 
"I'll  show  you  up — I'll  tell  'em  all  you're  a  'um- 
bug,  a  common  cheat  wot's  gone  and  swindled  a 


174  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

poor  trusting  girl  into  a  marriage  under  false 
pretences — " 

"For  Heaven's  sake — " 

" — I'll  tell  'em  that  you've  cheated  your  bene- 
factor— that  you  stole  his  plate  the  very  night  he 
befriended  you — " 

"George — hold  your  tongue — " 

George  leered  hideously. 

"And  I'll  talk  French  to  you!"  he  said,  as  a 
culminating  blow. 

The  door  opened.  The  Countess  Theodora 
led  the  way,  followed  by  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump 
whose  gorgeous  afternoon  "creation"  in  mauve 
crepe  de  chine  was  finished  off  by  the  fatal  pearl 
necklace.  Behind  appeared  the  gloomy  face  ot 
Dr.  Frohlocken  and  a  tall  fair-haired  young  man 
whom  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  hated  at  sight. 

"You  see  we've  all  come  together,"  said  the 
Countess  Theodora  cheerfully. 

"So  delightful!"  murmured  Mrs.  Pagot- 
Chump,  and  pressed  her  host's  hand  with  an  arch 
smile.  "I  guess  we  don't  need  any  introdoocing, 
do  we  Count?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken  greeted  his  recent  patient  with 
a  depressed  friendliness. 

"Didn't  want  to  come,"  he  declared,  with  sci- 
entific honesty.  "Hate  hotel  life.  But  I  felt  re- 
sponsible.  One  never  knows  how  a  case  like 
yours  may  turn  out,  especially  when  treated  in 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  175 

that  criminal  fashion.  However,  glad  to  see 
you  happy,  at  any  rate." 

The  Count  was  relieved  to  hear  that  he  looked 
happy.  He  felt  he  must  be  making  progress  in 
the  art  of  deception  and  wondered  if  Theodora 
shared  his  talent  or  whether  her  smile  was  gen- 
uine. It  was  certainly  defiant,  and  her  bright 
eyes  and  flaming  cheeks  seemed  to  challenge  him 
to  do  his  worst. 

"Louis,  this  is  my  old  friend,  Mr.  Saunders," 
she  said.  "Mr.  Saunders — this  is  my  husband." 
The  two  men  bowed,  and  the  Rogue  successfully 
performed  the  feat  of  grinding  his  teeth  and  smil- 
ing at  the  same  time.  His  hatred  for  this  lan- 
guid individual  was  increased  by  the  growing  con- 
viction that  he  played  a  sinister  part  in  his  wife's 
life.  What  that  part  was  he  had  no  time  to  con- 
sider and  his  seething  indignation  was  suddenly, 
brutally  cooled. 

"George — please  order  tea  to  be  sent  up — " 
the  Countess  Theodora  was  saying. 

Involuntarily  the  husband  clutched  at  the  Lucky 
Pig  concealed  in  his  waistcoat  pocket.  Then  he 
turned.  George,  modestly  awaiting  attention, 
stood  on  the  hearthrug  and  smiled  the  kindly  ex- 
asperating smile  of  the  superior  being. 

"I  think,  my  dear  de  Beaulieu,"  he  said  with  a 
slight  drawl,  "I  think  it  is  time  you  offered  the 


176  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

Countess  an  explanation  for  our  little  masquer- 
ade." 

There  was  a  blank  silence.  Monsieur  de  Beau- 
lieu  felt  that  the  room  had  become  full  of  eyes 
and  that  they  were  all  staring  at  him.  Either  his 
neck  had  swollen  or  his  collar  had  shrunk,  causing 
him  an  unpleasant  sensation,  of  suffocation,  and 
his  voice,  when  it  was  at  last  induced  to  produce 
itself,  sounded  high  and  unnatural. 

"My  dear  Theo — "  he  jerked  out,  "I  have  a 
little  explanation  to  make — in  fact — a  little  sur- 
prise. This — er — this  gentleman  whom  you 
have  been  accustomed  to  know  so  well,  frankly  as 
George — is  in  reality — " 

" — Still  your  humble  servant,  de  Bontemps, 
and  otherwise  Georges,"  put  in  George  with  a  gay 
smile  and  a  general  bow  which  however  seemed 
peculiarly  addressed  to  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump. 

"Why,  that's  the  fellow  I  tipped  half-an-hour 
ago !"  Mr.  Cecil  Saunders  exclaimed,  examining 
him  intently. 

"It  is  not  the  first  time  that  a  French  nobleman 
has  been  grateful  for  a  borrowed  half-crown," 
retorted  the  newly  created  Count  de  Bontemps, 
with  a  whimsical  and  continental  movement  of  the 
shoulders.  "All  the  same  I  confess  to  being  a 
base  deceiver,"  he  went  on  lightly.  "My  dear 
Countess,  against  whom  I  have  chiefly  sinned,  ac- 
cept my  apologies  and  explanations.  Political 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  177 

troubles  forced  me  to  fly  my  own  country  and  dis- 
guise myself  under  the  name  by  which  you  have 
hitherto  known  me.  My  dear  cousin,  your  hus- 
band, offered  me  the  protection  of  which  I  stood 
in  need,  and  now  that  the  clouds  are  passed  and 
I  may  once  more  assume  my  rightful  position,  I 
hope  that  we  may  both  receive  absolution." 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  suppressed  a  gasp.  It 
was  relatively  plausible  —  and  beautifully  ex- 
pressed. The  vulgar  denizen  of  No.  10,  'Urbert 
Street  had  disappeared  behind  an  impenetrable 
coating  of  polish  and  refinement.  Nevertheless, 
his  wife's  face  expressed  frozen  incredulity,  and  it 
was  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  who  took  the  lead. 

"Well,  if  this  isn't  like  a  scene  in  the  French 
Revolution,"  she  said  cheerily.  "I  guess  I'll  turn 
out  a  Countess  myself  if  you  give  me  time.  But 
I'm  real  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mon- 
sieur de  Bonton,  and  if  you're  in  need  of  another 
situation  just  you  come  along  to  James  Pagot- 
Chump,  U.  S.  A.,  and  we'll  see  you  get  more  than 
half-a-crown." 

"Vive  1'Amerique,"  said  George  and  kissed  the 
cordially  outstretched  hand  with  the  gallantry  of 
a  1 7th  century  courtier. 

"And  now  come  along  and  give  me  a  cup  of  tea 
and  the  whole  romance,"  went  on  Mrs.  Pagot- 
Chump  pleasantly  elated.  "I'm  thirsting  for 
both." 


178  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

Before  the  eyes  of  his  horrified  relative, 
George,  late  of  No.  10  'Urbert  Street,  offered  his 
arm  and  the  two  led  the  way  into  the  adjoining 
room.  Mr.  Saunders  with  'Dr.  Frohlocken,  both 
obeying  an  imperative  gesture  from  their  hostess, 
brought  up  the  rear,  and  for  a  moment  husband 
and  wife  were  left  alone. 

"You  have  indeed  astonishing  friends,"  the 
Countess  Theodora  observed  sarcastically. 

"I  thought — "  began  her  husband  with  desper- 
ate self-possession. 

"I  know  just  what  you  are  going  to  say:  'Live 
and  let  live.'  But  you  will  admit  that  I  have 
stranger  things  to  accept  from  you  than  you  from 
me." 

"Theo — you  said  once  you  would  trust  me." 

Her  eyes  softened  a  little  and  he  saw  a  new 
expression  creep  into  her  face — part  timid,  part 
appealing  and  part  defiant. 

"Louis — how  can  I  trust  you  after  all  that  has 
happened?" 

Instinctively  he  felt  that  she  was  offering  him  a 
loophole  of  escape,  and  he  seized  it  eagerly. 

"I'd  do  anything — "  he  began.  "Anything, 
Theodora." 

"Will  you  give  me  £300?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  It  was  crude 
— brutal,  almost  vulgar. 

"Why,  only  the  other  day  it  was  fifty — " 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  179 

"I  know,  I  know."  She  held  out  her  hands 
pleadingly.  Surely  it  is  a  little  thing  to  ask,  and 
I  want  it  so  badly." 

"You  want  it?"  She  saw  the  surprise  flash  up 
and  every  trace  of  colour  faded  from  her  cheeks 
— "or — or  is  it  for  him?"  he  asked  hoarsely. 

Her  eyes  met  his  without  flinching. 

"It  is  for  him." 

"Is  that  the  nature  of  your  obligation?" 

"Partly." 

He  began  to  pace  about  the  room  in  a  fever 
of  unrest. 

"Theodora — won't  you  trust  me?  If  this  man 
is  using  any  undue  influence  over  you — " 

"Oh,  no,  it  isn't  that — my  obligation — is  one 
of  feeling." 

"You  mean — you — care  for  him?" 

She  bowed  her  head.  He  drew  himself  up 
with  a  hard  effort.  In  the  next  room  he  heard 
George  relating  his  recent  adventure  with  the 
Bunmouth  Hotel's  chef  and  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump's 
high-pitched  laughter.  But  for  the  first  time  he 
did  not  care.  Everything  had  become  indifferent 
• — worthless  to  him. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said  at  last.  "It  would  have 
been  better  if  you  had  told  me  before.  As  it  is 
• — you  shall  have  the  money." 

"Louis — "  He  heard  the  sob  in  her  voice,  but 
he  did  not  see  her  face.  He  turned  away  with 


i8o  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

compressed  lips,  and  before  she  could  speak  again 
a  waiter  entered  with  the  letter  tray. 

"A  telegram  for  you,  your  Lordship." 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  took  the  envelope  and 
tore  it  open.  There  was  a  moment's  silence. 
Then  he  laughed  a  curious  mirthless  little  laugh. 

"Louis — what  is  it — have  you  bad  news?" 

"Nothing — unexpected."  He  passed  his  hand 
over  his  forehead.  "Theo — please  ask  George 
— I  mean  Bontemps  to  speak  to  me." 

"Yes,  Louis,"  she  said  with  a  new  meekness. 

He  heard  the  laughing  voices  in  the  next  room 
drop  to  an  abrupt  silence  and  the  next  minute 
George,  flushed  and  elated,  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"Wot's  the  matter?"  he  asked  boisterously  and 
with  painful  relapse  into  his  native  dialect.  "Why 
don't  you  come  along  in,  you  weeping  willow, 
you?  I've  just  been  telling  Mrs.  Chump  about 
Monsieur  Bonnet  and  we've  sent  for  'im  just  for 
the  fun  of  seein'  'is  face  when  'e  finds  who  'e 
threw  his  potato  at.  Why,  Bill — " 

"Read  that!"  said  the. Rogue. 

George,  Count  de  Bontemps,  took  the  crum- 
pled piece  of  pink  paper  and  spreading  it  out  read 
aloud: 

"Count  de  Beaulieu  and  wife  travelling  to  Bun- 
mouth  by  the  afternoon  express.  Arrive  5 130. 
Look  out.  "Washington  Jones." 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  181 

Instinctively  both  men  glanced  at  the  clock. 
The  hands  marked  5  145.  The  Count  de  Bon- 
temps  whistled  softly. 

"There's  a  Count  too  many  in  this  game — and 
that's  me,"  he  said.  "I'm  off,  brother,  dear,  and 
if  you  take  my  advice — "  Then  suddenly  he 
smiled — a  beautiful  smile  worthy  of  a  better 
cause.  "No,  Bill — no,  we'll  face  it  out — we'll 
face  it  out,  old  bird." 

And,  slipping  his  arm  through  that  of  his  fel- 
low-conspirator, he  dragged  him,  feebly  resisting, 
into  the  next  room. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MONSIEUR  FRANCOIS  BONNET  divested  him- 
self of  his  apron  and  flung  his  white  cap  down  on 
the  table,  like  a  knight  weary  of  his  armour. 

"I  go,"  he  said  solemnly.  "I  go — it  is  my 
duty,  and  a  Frenchman  never  yet  refused  to  per- 
form his  duty.  Ze  manager  'as  said  to  me, 
'Francois  Bonnet — apologise!  You  'ave  thrown 
potato-skins  at  a  guest,  and  for  ze  honour  of  ze 
hotel  you  must  apologise  like  a  gentleman.'  Eh 
bien,  I  go.  I  will  make  my  amends  to  this  scele- 
rat,  but  I  will  not  forget.  Ah,  no,  I'll  not  for- 
get!" 

Susan  tossed  her  head. 

"If  you  had  listened  to  me,  it  would  never  have 
happened,"  she  said  condescendingly.  "I  knew 
at  once  he  was  a  gentleman.  But  perhaps  you 
don't  know  the  sort.  You  will  look  silly." 

Monsieur  turned  a  melancholy  brown  eye  upon 
her. 

"Disloyal  one !"  he  said  bitterly.  "What  is  it 
to  thee  what  I  look?  Through  thy  faithlessness 
am  I  'umbled  in  ze  dust.  Is  that  not  enough?" 

"Oh,  go  along!"  said  Susan  cheerfully. 
182 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  183 

Monsieur  Bonnet  drew  out  an  embroidered 
handkerchief  and  laid  it  ceremoniously  on  the 
table. 

"Little  did  I  think  when  thou  gavest  me  this 
first  gift  that  I  should  return  it  to  thee  thus,"  he 
said.  "But  indeed  all  is  over.  Go  then  to  thy 
Count  and  forget  one  who  loved  thee  wiz  an 
'onourable  'eart.  Farewell." 

"See  you  later!"  said  Susan  with  the  haughty 
aloofness  of  a  Countess  in  embryo. 

As  Monsieur  Bonnet,  heavy  of  step  and  heavier 
of  heart,  reached  the  ground  floor  he  became 
aware  of  voices,  raised  in  hot  altercation,  which 
came  from  the  entrance  hall.  Monsieur  Bonnet, 
who  had  been  making  for  the  back  staircase, 
changed  his  course,  and  made  for  the  front  ones 
instead.  Which  proves  that  Monsieur  Bonnet 
was  not  wholly  free  from  the  weakness  of  curi- 
osity. Two  new  arrivals,  barricaded  in  the  midst 
of  an  astonishing  quantity  of  foreign  looking  lug- 
gage, were  engaged  in  a  loud  discussion  with  the 
perplexed  and  heated  hotel  manager.  Monsieur 
perceived  that  the  lady  and  gentleman  were  both 
young  and  of  the  type  that  is  briefly  classified  as 
"newly  married."  Both  were  below  the  medium 
height;  the  gentleman  was  dark  and  excitable, 
with  a  fiercely  waxed  little  moustache,  the  lady 
was  fair  and  fluffy  and  placid,  with  a  tendency  to 
plumpness.  Monsieur  Bonnet  had  noticed  these 


1 84  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

peculiarities  and  was  on  the  point  of  resuming 
his  penitential  pilgrimage  when  the  manager,  per- 
ceiving him,  signalled  to  him  like  a  ship  in  dis- 
tress. 

"Monsieur  Bonnet,"  he  said  in  an  excited  un- 
dertone, "you  are  a  man  of  tact,  and  perhaps  you 
can  manage  your  own  countrymen  better  than  I 
can.  Go  and  ask  the  Count  de  Beaulieu  if  he 
would  'be  so  kind  as  to  spare  me  a  few  minutes. 
It  is  a  matter  of  importance. 

"The  Count  is  with  guests,"  said  Monsieur 
Bonnet,  his  eye  on  the  strange  couple,  who  had 
relapsed  into  a  heated  silence.  "Can  I  not  offer 
him  some  reason?" 

"Say — that — well,  you'd  better  tell  him  the 
truth.  Say  that  a  gentleman  is  here  who  says 
he  is  the  Count  de  Beaulieu — " 

"And  that  he  is  a  fraud,  a  humbug,"  put  in 
the  new  arrival  fiercely,  and  with  a  wild  and 
threatening  wave  of  the  arms. 

Monsieur  Bonnet  drew  a  deep  sigh  of  infinite 
satisfaction. 

"I  go,"  he  said.  "I  go  quicker  than  ze  light- 
ening and  wiz  ze  greatest  joy." 

Thus  it  was  that  when  Monsieur  Bonnet  was 
ushered  into  the  presence  of  his  enemy  he  came 
with  the  air  of  a  conqueror.  George,  who  was 
seated  by  the  tea-table  next  to  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump, 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  185 

received  him  with  a  gracious  and  graceful  move- 
ment of  the  hand. 

"Ah,  vous  voila,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  de  la 
Pomme  de  Terre,"  he  said  gaily. 

Monsieur  Bonnet  returned  the  recognition  with 
a  stare  and  a  chilly  bow. 

"I  'ave  come  to  make  the  expression  of  my 
regrets,"  he  said  stiffly  in  English. 

"Pray  consider  the  matter  forgotten,"  George 
assured  him.  "Your  dinners  should  soften  the 
heart  of  your  deadliest  enemy." 

" — and  I  'ave  come  also  on  ze  part  of  ze  Count 
de  Beaulieu"  Monsieur  Bonnet  persisted  with  dan- 
gerous calm.  "Ze  Count  and  Countess  'ave  just 
arrived  and  'e  begs  to  inform  Monsieur  de  Beau- 
lieu  that  'e  is  a  fraud  and  a  'umbug  and  zat  'e 
would  be  glad  of  a  moment's  speak  wiz  'im." 

The  Count  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  impelled  by 
George's  determined  eye. 

"Absurd!"  he  heard  himself  say  from  a  long 
way  off. 

"Impertinence !"  said  George,  passing  Mrs. 
Pagot-Chump  the  sugar.  "Must  be  a  fraud.  Go 
and  see  that  he  is  turned  out,  Louis.  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  such  a  thing,  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump?" 

Mrs.  Pagot-Chump,  with  recollections  of  New 
York,  showed  a  face  of  blank  indignation. 

"Never!"  she  said. 

Louis  meanwhile  looked  round  the  room  like 


186  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

a  man  who  is  taking  a  last  farewell  of  his  sur- 
roundings. He  encountered  his  wife's  wondering 
gaze  and  Saunders'  supercilious  stare.  The  one 
filled  him  with  a  biting  remorse  for  the  wrong 
he  had  done,  the  other  with  an  obstinate  desire 
to  go  on  doing  it.  He  had  cheated  her  but,  scoun- 
drel though  he  was,  he  felt  that  he  was  nothing 
like  as  big  a  scoundrel  as  this  pale-eyed  wastling. 
It  was  his  duty  to  protect  his  wife  against  herself. 
He  squared  his  shoulders. 

"If  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  would  excuse  me  for 
a  moment"  he  began. 

Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  bowed. 

"And  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  will  come  down  and 
legitimise  you,"  said  George  jocosely,  but  with 
significance. 

Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  smiled  a  smile  that  was  not 
altogether  happy.  The  possibility  that  this  new 
arrival  was  the  ingratiating  foreigner  who  had 
beguiled  many  an  unreturned  dollar  out  of  James 
Pagot-Chump's  pocket  had  already  presented  it- 
self to  her  astute  mind.  But  she  was  a  woman  of 
courage. 

"Of  course,"  she  said.  "I  guess  I'll  go  bail 
for  you,  Count." 

With  this  assurance  the  Rogue  followed  Mon- 
sieur Bonnet  into  the  manager's  private  room. 
As  William  Brown,  at  any  rate,  he  was  beginning 
to  believe  in  himself.  The  sword  of  Damocles 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  187 

was  about  to  fall  and  he  felt  astonishingly  self- 
possessed,  not  to  say  brazen-faced.  Nevertheless, 
the  first  encounter  with  the  man  he  was  imperson- 
ating caused  him  a  shock.  He  had  expected  to 
meet  his  double — instead  he  found  himself  con- 
fronted by  a  small,  alert  and  very  angry  personage 
who  bore  him  no  resemblance  whatever.  Theo- 
dora's conduct,  not  to  mention  Mrs.  Pagot- 
Chump's,  was  growing  more  and  more  inexpli- 
cable. 

There  was  a  moment's  sultry  silence.  The 
manager  stood  midway  between  them,  rubbing  his 
hands  and  endeavouring  to  pacify  the  infuriated 
little  man  in  the  heavy  travelling  coat  who,  at  the 
Count's  entrance,  made  what  in  police  terms  is 
called  an  "ugly  rush." 

"Gentlemen!  Gentlemen!"  The  manager 
pleaded  soothingly. 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  smiled. 

"I  believe  you  wished  to  speak  to  me,"  he  said. 
"Who  is  this  person?" 

The  manager  had  no  opportunity  to  explain. 
The  "person"  turned  from  red  to  purple  and  ut- 
tered a  sound  that  was  like  a  throttled  scream. 

"I  demand  that  the  police  be  sent  for,"  he 
stuttered.  "I  demand  that  this  man  be  arrested. 
He  is  a  fraud,  a  humbug.  There  is  but  one  Count 
de  Beaulieu  and  I  am  he.  This  here  is  the 
Countess  de  Beaulieu — "  He  broke  off,  choking 


1 88  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

with  temper,  and  the  late  William  Brown  glanced 
involuntarily  in  the  direction  indicated.  For  the 
first  time  he  became  aware  that  a  lady  was  seated 
by  the  fireside.  She  looked  up  and  smiled  placidly. 
The  Rogue  clenched  his  fists.  This  then  was  the 
woman  for  whom  Theodora  had  been  so  basely 
deserted.  The  last  spark  of  remorse  died  out. 

"You  say  you  are  Count  de  Beaulieu,"  he  said 
with  the  severity  of  innocence.  "Have  you  any 
proof  to  offer?" 

"Proof?  Proof?  I  have  papers — hundreds 
of  papers — "  the  infuriated  Frenchman  dragged 
out  his  pocket,  but  his  impersonator  waved  the 
offer  on  one  side. 

"Papers  can  be  forged,"  he  said.  "You  are 
aware,  perhaps  that  the  Count  de  Beaulieu  in- 
herits a  considerable  fortune  from  his  English 
Grandfather?" 

"Aware?  Of  course  I  am  aware.  It  is  for 
that  that  I  have  come  to  this  wretched  country." 

"Then  no  doubt  your  bankers  and  the  executors 
will  legitimise  you?" 

The  Frenchman  snorted. 

"I  have  arrived  yesterday  from  America,"  he 
retorted.  "I  have  had  no  time — " 

William  Brown  smiled  affably. 

"That  is  a  pity,"  he  commented,  "because  the 
executors  of  the  late  Lord  Sudleigh  have  ac- 
knowledged me." 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  189 

"Comment!!" 

The  manager  smiled  with  a  dawning  relief. 
After  all,  the  first  week's  bill  had  been  paid,  and 
people  who  pay  their  bills  inspire  confidence. 

"I  might  perhaps  telephone  to  your  bankers, 
Monsieur  le  Comte?"  he  suggested  apologetically. 

"By  all  means,"  William  Brown  asserted.         I 

At  this  the  Frenchman,  who  had  been  reeling 
round  the  room  in  a  transport  of  impotent  fury, 
came  to  a  standstill.  By  a  supreme  effort  he  at- 
tained that  state  which  in  French  passes  for  calm. 

"Wait!"  he  said.  "I  have  thought.  There  is 
a  friend  of  mine  here — a  Madame  Pagot-Chump. 
It  is  for  her  I  have  come.  I  knew  her  in  New 
York.  She  will  recognise  me.  Send  for  her." 

"Mrs.  Pagot-Chump's  evidence  will  no  doubt 
be  helpful,"  remarked  the  manager  tentatively. 

"By  all  means,"  Brown  agreed. 

The  manager  made  for  the  door. 

"With  your  permission,  gentlemen,  I  will  go 
myself  and  explain  to  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  and  ask 
her  to  spare  us  a  few  moments." 

"You  will  find  her  in  my  wife's  apartments," 
Brown  added. 

The  Count  started  and  William  Brown  smiled. 
He  had  taken  out  his  Lucky  Pig  and  was  sur- 
reptitiously caressing  it  with  his  forefinger.  The 
good  luck  which  had  made  Theodora  and  Mrs. 
Pagot-Chump  mistake  him  for  this  man  was  ut- 


190  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

terly  incomprehensible,  but  he  had  begun  to  be- 
lieve in  it.  Meanwhile  the  manager  had  closed 
the  door  softly  behind  him  and  the  Frenchman 
advanced  threateningly. 

"You  are  a  swindler,  sir,  and  you  know  it,"  he 
said. 

William  Brown  confronted  him.  At  that  mo- 
ment the  thought  of  Theodora  and  her  betrayal 
at  the  hands  of  this  man  made  him  dangerous. 

"I  dare  say  I  do,"  he  said  slowly  and  distinctly 
"but  I'd  rather  be  a  swindler  than  a  scoundrel." 

"Sir — you  insinuate — ?" 

"I  insinuate  nothing.  I  affirm.  Do  you  deny 
that  you  wrote  to  the  Countess  Theodora  de  Mel- 
ville asking  her  to  come  to  England  to  marry  you 
in  defiance  of  her  parents  wishes?" 

"I  do  not  deny  it." 

"And  you  married  this  lady?" 

"Of  course—" 

"Then  I  say  you  are  a  scoundrel  and  I  regret 
nothing  that  I  have  done." 

The  Frenchman  recoiled.  His  expression 
changed  from  rage  to  alarm. 

"C'est  un  fou !"  he  murmured  distractedly.  "Un 
fou!" 

But  at  that  moment  the  door  opened  and,  catch- 
ing sight  of  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump's  gaily  adorned 
person,  he  advanced  with  outstretched  hands. 
"Ah,  Madame,  you  are  come  like  an  angel  to  de- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  191 

liver  me  and  my  poor  wife  from  a  most  absurd 
position — " 

Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  waved  him  severely  on  one 
side. 

"I  do  not  know  this  person,"  she  said. 

"Ah!"  said  the  manager  from  the  rear. 
William  Brown  pressed  his  Lucky  Pig  in  silent 
gratitude. 

"You  do  not  know  me — !"  gasped  the  French- 
man. "Why  in  New  York—" 

"I  remember  that  in  New  York  a  person — 
this  person — presented  himself  to  Mr.  Pagot- 
Chump  and  myself  as  the  Count  de  Beaulieu," 
Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  went  on  with  freezing  delib- 
eration. "I  remember  that  he  borrowed  $1,000 
from  my  husband,  but  I  do  not  remember  that  he 
ever  paid  them  back.  We  discovered  afterwards 
that  he  was  a  common  swindler."  She  inspected 
the  feebly  gesticulating  Frenchman  through  her 
lorgnettes.  "Under  the  circumstances  I  guess  our 
acquaintance  is  at  an  end,"  she  added. 

"Naturally,"  murmured  the  manager.  "I  am 
deeply  grateful -to  you,  Madam,  for  clearing  up 
this  difficulty."  He  rang  the  bell.  "John,  see 
that  this — this  gentleman's  boxes  are  put  back 
and  bring  the  omnibus  round  to  the  door — " 

"I  protest — I  remonstrate — I  shall  send  for 
the  police — " 

"You  can  be  thankful  that  I  have  not  sent  for 


i92  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

the  police,"  the  manager  retorted  sharply.  "I 
suppose,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  you  do  not  wish  to 
prosecute?" 

"Oh,  dear  no,"  Wiliam  Brown  assured  him. 
"It  really  isn't  worth  while."  He  offered  Mrs. 
Pagot-Chump  his  arm.  "I  think  after  this  little 
intermezzo  we  can  rejoin  our  friends,"  he  said 
gaily. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  Hotel  omnibus  contain- 
ing the  still  furiously  tirading  Frenchman  and  a 
French  lady  who  had  by  this  time  relapsed  into  a 
placid  shower  of  tears,  rolled  out  of  the  Hotel 
grounds.  From  the  scullery  window  Susan 
watched  the  departure  in  triumph. 

"You  see — I  told  you  so!"  she  said  to  Mon- 
sieur Bonnet  who  scowled  in  the  background. 

"The  end  is  not  yet,"  returned  Monsieur  Bon- 
net, gloomily  prophetic.  "Misguided  woman!" 

And  upstairs  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  listened  to 
the  dying  rumble  of  the  wheels  with  the  relief  of 
a  man  who  has  successfully  dodged  the  sword  of 
Damocles  for  the  fourth  time. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

DR.  FROHLOCKEN  sat  at  breakfast  and  dis- 
coursed on  the  subject  of  crimes.  It  was  a  sub- 
ject which  invariably  put  him  in  a  good  temper, 
and  the  close,  slightly  strained  attention  of  his 
audience  encouraged  him  to  explain  his  theories 
at  some  length. 

"There  are  no  such  people  as  criminals,"  he 
declared,  adding  paradoxically,  "and  none  of  us 
can  claim  to  be  anything  better.  A  so-called  crim- 
inal is  merely  a  person  whose  buried  instincts  have 
got  out  of  control.  We  are  all  potential  mur- 
derers and  thieves;  even  you,  my  dear  lady,  may 
at  heart  be  something  very  different  to  what  you 
seem,  and  as  to  you,  No.  7,  who  knows  what  that 
memory  of  yours  is  hiding  so  carefully." 

He  chuckled  with  unusual  levity  and  went  on 
quite  unaware  of  the  chill  silence  which  had  wel- 
comed his  mild  pleasantry. 

"Hence  so-called  crimes  enter  into  my  domain; 
criminals,  as  you  call  them,  interest  me.  I  collect 
them.  I  confess  that  I  have  sympathy  with  them, 
which  does  not,  however,  prevent  my  recognising 
the  necessity  for  limiting  their  activities.  There 

193 


i94  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

was  one  fellow  in  particular  whom  I  genuinely  ad- 
mire— a  notorious  person  who  has  made  our  idi- 
otic police  appear  more  idiotic  than  usual — 
William  Brown  he  was  christened,  but  he  had 
several  aliases — Slippery  Pill,  I  think,  among 
others — " 

"Slippery  Bill,"  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  cor- 
rected hastily. 

Dr.  Frohlocken  appeared  delighted. 

"Ah,  then  you  remember  him?" 

"Remember?  Certainly  not.  I  mean — ,  I've 
heard — through  the  papers — of  course — " 

"Well,  he's  worth  remembering,"  the  Doctor 
resumed  appreciatively.  "A  wonderful  imper- 
sonator. Dukes,  clergymen,  detectives,  it  was  all 
the  same  to  him  apparently.  And  the  police  have 
never  so  much  as  laid  hands  on  him.  However, 
what  can  you  expect?  A  man  of  genius  like  that 
pitted  against  our  friend  Inspector  Smythe?  The 
conclusion  is  inevitable.  At  the  same  time  I  think 
— I  may  say  I  fear  that  the  object  of  my  admira- 
tion has  met  his  match.  I  have  a  suspicion  that 
his  career  is  drawing  to  a  close." 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  leant  forward. 

"Do  you?"  he  said  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

Dr.  Frohlocken  nodded  gravely. 

"Sooner  or  later  they  all  make  the  same  mis- 
take. They  play  the  same  part  too  often.  You 
remember  the  gentleman  who  had  a  fatal  boat- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

ing  accident  with  three  heavily  insured  wives  in 
succession  ?  Now  that  was  overdoing  a  good  idea. 
Two  might  have  passed,  but  three  was  unreason- 
able— unlikely.  You  see,  they  get  intoxicated 
with  success.  They  feel  their  luck  can't  fail — and 
so  they  blunder — as  I  fancy  Mr.  William  Brown 
has  done — " 

He  glanced  round,  flattered  by  the  intense  in- 
terest which  he  had  evidently  aroused.  Monsieur 
de  Beaulieu  seemed  even  unnecessarily  moved. 
His  cousin's  attitude,  though  attentive,  was  more 
impersonal. 

"You  surprise  me,  Doctor,"  he  remarked  rather 
coldly.  "I  have  not  heard  of  any  arrest — " 

"Not  yet,  sir.  Nevertheless  you  will  do  so. 
Now,  I  have  never  seen  the  man,  but  I  have  no 
doubt  that  I  shall  be  the  means  of  cutting  short 
a  very  interesting  career — " 

Monsieur  de  Beaulieu,  taken  unawares,  gripped 
the  edge  of  the  table. 

"You !"  he  breathed. 

"I  think  so.  It  was  the  similarity  of  the  vari- 
ous cases  that  struck  me.  You  see,  I  have  been 
collecting  them  and  their  method  has  always  been 
identical, — the  impersonation  of  someone  who  is 
well  out  of  the  way — or  whom  nobody  is  likely  to 
know.  The  moment  the  pair  were  driving  out 
of  the  grounds  the  suspicion  flashed  across  my 
mind.  Of  course  I  could  not  be  certain,  never- 


196  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

theless  I  wired  the  police  in  London,  who  will 
undoubtedly  take  steps — " 

"You  mean — the  Count — the  so-called  Count 
has  been  arrested?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken  assented. 

"I  am  expecting  news  any  moment"  he  said  in 
a  tone  of  mild  satisfaction.  "The  scientific  mind, 
my  dear  No.  7,  works  slow,  but  it  works  ex- 
ceeding sure." 

The  Count  de  Beaulieu  glanced  sideways  at 
his  companion  in  nobility  and  received  a  gentle 
pressure  on  the  foot  by  way  of  response.  No  fur- 
ther conversation  on  the  subject  was  possible,  how- 
ever, for  at  that  moment  the  bilingual  waiter, 
Jean,  made  his  appearance  with  the  morning's 
post. 

"Une  lettre  pour  Monsieur  le  Comte — une  let- 
ter pour  Madame  la  Comtesse." 

Jean's  French  invariably  caused  the  Count  a 
twinge  of  alarm.  This  morning  it  reduced  him  to 
a  state  bordering  on  panic  and  the  letter,  when  he 
saw  the  envelope,  completed  the  devastation  of 
his  nervous  system.  It  bore  the  printed  address 
of  his  bankers.  He  opened  it  and  the  first  lines 
told  him  that  the  blow  had  fallen.  In  polite,  but 
no  longer  cordial  terms,  Messrs.  Thomas  and 
Blithe  begged  to  inform  the  Count  de  Beaulieu 
that  they  had  received  a  letter  purporting  to  come 
from  the  genuine  bearer  of  the  title  who  was  re- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  197 

turning  from  America.  Pending  enquiries, 
Messrs.  Thomas  and  Blithe  felt  it  necessary  to 
close  the  Count  de  Beaulieu's  account.  They  ex- 
pressed regrets,  but  their  instructions  from  the 
executors  of  the  late  Lord  Sudleigh's  will  left 
them  no  alternative.  The  recipient  of  this  intel- 
ligence felt  the  blood  slowly  recede  from  his  face. 
He  looked  up,  fearing  that  the  change  might 
have  been  noticed,  and  saw  that  his  wife  was 
white  to  the  lips. 

"Are  you  about  to  faint,  both  of  you?"  Dr. 
Frohlocken  enquired  with  cold  professional  in- 
terest. 

The  Count,  once  again  admonished  under  the 
table,  recovered  himself.  In  an  instant  he  had 
reached  his  wife's  side  and  had  placed  his  arm 
protectingly  about  her. 

"Theodora — "  he  said,  "what  is  the  matter? 
Have  you  had  bad  news?" 

For  a  full  minute  she  did  not  answer.  Her  fair 
head  rested  against  his  arm  and,  to  his  amaze- 
ment, he  felt  that  she  was  clinging  to  him  like  a 
frightened  child. 

"Theodora !"  he  coaxed,  with  a  long  suppressed 
tenderness. 

Her  eyes  opened  and  she  looked  up  at  him. 
A  wave  of  wondering  surprise  seemed  to  swamp 
for  a  moment  the  underlying  fear. 

"It's  from  my — my  father,"  she  stammered. 


'198  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"He  has  forgiven  us — he  is  coming  over — to- 
morrow." But  she  did  not  offer  him  the  letter 
nor  did  he  ask  to  see  it.  Knowing  that  it  was 
written  in  the  French  language  he  had  not  the 
slightest  desire  to  reveal  his  astonishing  ignorance 
of  what  was  supposed  to  be  his  own  tongue,  and 
he  contented  himself  with  a  non-committal  cough. 
Dr.  Frohlocken  gazed  from  one  to  the  other  with 
alert  attention. 

"Your  reaction  to  good  news,  my  dear  lady," 
he  remarked,  "is  quite  unusual  and  most  inter- 
esting. One  might  almost  suppose,  judging  super- 
ficially—" 

The  Countess  rose  unsteadily  to  her  feet.  She 
still  held  her  letter  tight  clenched  in  her  hand, 
and  her  eyes  sought  her  husband's  with  the  same 
look  of  mute  appeal. 

"I  think — I  shall  rest  a  little  in  the  next  room," 
she  said  faintly.  "The  shock — you  know.  Dr. 
Frohlocken — your  arm !" 

That  gentleman  responded  with  clumsy  alacrity, 
and  a  moment  later  the  Count  and  George  were 
alone.  The  Count  continued  to  stare  at  the  door 
through  which  his  wife  had  passed,  as  though  he 
had  seen  a  vision,  and  George,  who  was  eminently 
practical,  coughed. 

"Wot's  up?"  he  enquired  briefly,  and  with  a 
distressing  return  to  his  native  intonation. 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  199 

"Everything's  up — U.P.,"  the  Count  answered 
with  a  short  unhappy  sight.  "Read  that!" 

He  pushed  the  bankers'  letter  across  the  table 
and  George,  having  glanced  over  it,  nodded. 

"Once  the  real  josser  had  turned  up  you  couldn't 
expect  things  to  go  on  as  they  are,"  he  said.  "It's 
a  case  of  the  night  express  and  a  visit  to  the  Con- 
tinong,  eh,  old  bird?" 

The  "old  bird"  glanced  despairingly  about  the 
room. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  It's  all  over  this  time  and 
it  can't  be  helped." 

"Wot  about  your  missus?  Going  to  take  'er 
with  you?" 

"No."  The  Count  made  a  movement  of  des- 
pairing resignation.  "I  shall  write  to  her.  I 
shall  tell  her  the  whole  truth.  Her  people  will 
look  after  her  now  and — and  I  dare  say  the  law 
will  set  her  free.  I'm  sure  I  hope  so." 

"Wot  about  this  friend  of  'ers — this  'ere  Saun- 
ders?"  George  enquired  darkly. 

His  brother  squared  his  shoulders  like  a  man 
preparing  to  meet  the  attack  of  a  whole  army. 

"I  suppose  she'll  marry  him  in  the  end,"  he 
jerked  out.  "I'd  like  to  kill  him  first  though." 

"Why  don't  you,  old  bird?" 

"Me?  Good  heavens,  do  you  take  me  for  a 
murderer?" 

George  gave  an  unpleasant  chuckle. 


200  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  You  downed  that  fellow 
round  by  Blake's  pretty  neatly.  I  don't  know 
whether  'e  recovered  but — " 

"George,  for  pity's  sake  don't  talk  about  things 
of  that  sort!  You  know  I  can't  remember  them 
and  they  are — simply  unbearable.  Anyhow,  this 
is  different.  I  can't  harm  a  man  she's  fond  of — 
even  though  I  think  he's  a  scoundrel." 

George  shook  his  head. 

"You're  off  colour,  Bill  dear,"  he  lamented. 
"You  wouldn't  'ave  turned  a  hair  over  a  little  job 
like  that  a  year  ago.  However,  it's  love's  young 
dream  that's  upset  you,  I  suppose.  But  look  'ere, 
to  get  back  to  business — how  much  filthy  lucre 
'ave  you  got  for  our  little  trip?" 

The  Count  started,  overwhelmed  by  this  new 
idea. 

"Money?  Why,  I  don't  believe  I've  got  £20 
in  the  world.  I  gave  my  wife  £300  last  night." 

"Wives  is  expensive  luxuries,"  George  com- 
mented gloomily.  "Don't  you  saddle  yourself  with 
another,  Bill  dear." 

"I  never  shall,"  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu  returned 
with  a  tragic  glance  at  the  closed  door, — "even  if 
I  had  the  chance,"  he  added,  as  a  melancholy 
after-thought. 

"And  you  won't  have  much  chance  unless  we 
can  raise  the  wind  some'ow,"  George  observed. 
He  was  silent  a  moment,  contemplating  his  brother 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  201 

with  a  half-amused  cunning.  Then  he  slapped 
his  knee.  "It's  a  lifer  if  you  get  caught,  Bill," 
he  said.  "You  don't  know  wot  a  little  lot  the 
beaks  'ave  got  against  you — thirty  burglaries, 
fourteen  fraudulent  impersonations,  twenty  for- 
geries, three  cases  of  manslaughter,  not  to  men- 
tion bigamy.  Why,  an  ordinary  'uman  life  won't 
be  'alf  long  enough!  You  wouldn't  like  that, 
would  you?" 

"I'm  sure  I  shan't  care  much,"  was  the  bitter 
answer. 

"Well,  wot  about  the  poor  Countess  wot  you've 
deluded  so?  D'yer  think  it'll  be  a  nice  thing  for 
'er  wot's  come  of  a  noble  French  family  to  see 
'er  'usband  in  the  dock,  eh?" 

George  was  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  in  the 
sloughs  of  cockneyism,  and  the  unhappy  Count 
winced. 

"No,  no,  I  must  spare  her  that,"  he  agreed 
hoarsely.  "Besides — I  couldn't  face  her.  She 
trusted  me,  you  know,  and  upon  my  word  I'd  have 
made  her  happier  than  either  that  blackguard 
Count  or  that  Saunders  fellow  could  have  done. 
But  the  luck's  been  against  me  and  I  must  let 
her  go.  It  would  be  horrible  to  see  her  when  she 
hears  that  I'm  only  a  common  rogue." 

"  'Old  on  there !  Don't  you  go  calling  names. 
Hours  is  a  honourable  profession  if  you  looks  on 
it  in  the  right  light.  Besides,  you're  getting  washy, 


202  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

brother,  and  you  can  keep  all  that  for  the  beak 
when  you  pleads  'extenuating  circumstances'. 
Look  'ere,  I've  got  an  idea,  old  bird."  He  picked 
up  a  copy  of  the  "Bunmouth  Daily  Chronicle"  and 
pointed  out  the  social  paragraph  entitled  "Latest 
Arrivals."  "See  that?" 

"See  what?" 

"If  you  can't  read  at  your  time  of  life  you 
ought  to  be  ashamed.  Listen  to  this?  Mr.  John 
Lancaster,  the  well-known  Australian  financier  who 
is  travelling  over  Europe  in  connection  with  his 
recent  mysterious  loss,  has  arrived  for  a  few  days' 
rest  in  Bunmouth!  Now,  how  does  that  strike 
you,  brother?" 

The  Count  put  his  hand  involuntarily  to  the 
back  of  his  head  as  though  perplexed  by  some 
vague  memory. 

"The  name  sounds  familiar,"  he  said  hesitat- 
ingly. "I  seem  to  have  heard  it  somewhere." 

"Of  course  you  have,  you  Chatham  &  Dover 
express,  you.  Why  he's  known  everywhere  and 
fairly  oozes  with  chink.  And  I  tell  you  wot,  sweet 
innocent,  we  leave  by  the  night  train  and  Mr.  John 
Lancaster's  cash — goes  with  us." 

The  Count  recoiled. 

"You  can't — you  won't  do  it!"  he  stammered. 

"Can't  I?  I've  got  a  little  friend  below  stairs 
who'll  make  it  as  easy  as  going  to  sleep.  Just 
you  keep  an  eye  on  yours  truly  and  I'll  show  you 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  203 

the  neatest  bit  of  safe-breaking  you've  ever  seen." 

The  Count  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 

"George,"  he  said  sternly,  "you  are  my  brother 
and  I  should  hate  to  have  to  do  it,  but  if  you 
persist  in  this  nefarious  plan  I  shall  feel  it  my 
duty  to  warn  the  manager." 

"You!"  George  gave  vent  to  a  snort  of  con- 
tempt. "Why,  you  'ave  done  that  sort  of  thing 
dozens  of  times  yourself,  you  old  white-washed 
sepulchre!  And  if  you  makes  a  fuss  and  tries  to 
queer  my  crib — "  he  drew  nearer  and  his  voice 
sank  to  a  snarl — "I'll  send  for  the  manager  my- 
self and  then  we'll  see  who  looks  funny." 

The  Count  sank  down  annihilated  into  the 
nearest  chair. 

"I  apologise,"  he  murmured.  "  Ton  my  word, 
it  seems  I  must  have  had  another  attack  of  hon- 
esty." 

"It'll  be  over  in  a  minute,"  George  reassured 
him.  "Try  a  drop  of  brandy,  dear  boy." 

But  at  that  moment  Dr.  Frohlocken's  dark 
head  appeared  between  the  curtains  of  the  door. 

"The  Countess  is  feeling  better  now,"  he  said 
mildly.  "She  would  be  glad  to  see  you,  Count." 


CHAPTER  XV 

MONSIEUR  BONNET  sat  by  the  kitchen  table 
with  his  head  between  his  hands  and  stared  gloom- 
ily at  a  rough  copy  of  the  dinner  menu.  To  wel- 
come the  new  and  celebrated  arrival  he  had  been 
told  to  put  his  best  foot  forward,  which  command 
Monsieur  Bonnet  had  construed  into  a  prodigious 
culinary  effort.  On  another  occasion  the  effort 
would  have  given  him  pleasure,  but  to-day  his 
heart  was  heavy  and  he  had  every  reason  to  fear 
that  his  hand  would  be  heavier  still.  The  reason 
was  not  far  to  seek.  Susan  was  faithless.  From 
where  he  sat  he  could  hear  her  crooning  to  herself 
over  the  afternoon's  washing  up  and  since  he  had 
told  her  that  his  heart  was  broken  her  singing 
was  nothing  short  of  callous.  He  knew  what  it 
all  meant.  With  visions  of  becoming  the  Countess 
de  Bontemps  Susan's  previous  ambition  of  one 
day  assuming  the  name  of  Bonnet  and  the  sway 
over  a  nice  little  hotel  had  dropped  out  of  sight. 
As  a  direct  consequence  Monsieur  Bonnet  found 
himself  unable  to  concentrate  even  on  his  favourite 
subject  of  entrees  and  when  the  singing  suddenly 

204 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  205; 

ceased  he  rose  up,  smote  himself  on  the  breast, 
and  determined  on  a  last  attack. 

"The  Old  Guard  dies  but  never  surrenders!" 
he  declared  defiantly  and  quite  indifferent  to  the 
fact  that  there  was  no  one  to  appreciate  this  stal- 
wart sentiment,  unless  the  blinking  of  the  pots 
and  pans  could  be  accepted  as  signs  of  intelli- 
gent understanding.  As  Monsieur  Bonnet  ap- 
proached the  scullery  door  he  fancied  he  heard 
the  sound  of  voices  and,  aroused  by  a  sudden, 
hideous  suspicion,  he  stopped  short.  Through  the 
chink  of  the  door  he  perceived  that  his  worst  fears 
were  justified.  Susan  was  perched  on  the  inside 
window  ledge,  George,  Count  de  Bontemps  on 
the  outside,  and  the  proximity  of  their  heads 
brought  a  torrent  of  remarkably  expressive  French 
epithets  to  Monsieur  Bonnet's  lips.  Fortunately 
they  were  smothered.  Paralysed  with  indigna- 
tion, Monsieur  Bonnet  heard  a  rapid  exchange  of 
whispers  of  which  George  had  the  lion's  share. 

"You  don't  mean  it?"  Susan  was  exclaiming 
softly.  "You're  having  me,  aren't  you?" 

"Having  you?  Ah,  Susan,  to  have  you,  to  call 
you  mine — that  alone  is  indeed  my  ambition." 
George's  voice,  though  subdued,  rang  with  the 
tenderest  enthusiasm.  "Now  that  my  position  is 
acknowledged  here  you  trust  me,  do  you  not,  my 
sweet  English  rosebud?" 

*'Oh,  I  trust  you  all  right,"  said  Susan  com- 


206  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

placently.  "I  only  wants  to  know  wot  you're 
after." 

George  passed  his  hand  caressingly  over  her 
fair  hair,  whereupon  the  concealed  Monsieur  Bon- 
net made  a  gesture  suggesting  homicidal  tend- 
encies. 

"I  want  you  to  marry  me,  Susan,"  George  said. 
"Is  that  not  clear  to  you,  my  fair  English  lily? 
But  before  I  marry  you  I  must  have  finally  over- 
come the  machinations  of  my  enemies." 

"Wot's  machinations?"  inquired  Susan  intelli- 
gently. "Anything  to  do  with  aeroplanes?" 

"Nothing,  bien  aimee.  I  merely  meant  that  my 
enemies  who  have  stolen  my  rightful  heritage 
must  be  routed  finally  before  I  dare  ask  you  to 
share  my  life  with  me." 

"Who's  your  enemies?" 

George's  voice  dropped.  Although  Monsieur 
Bonnet  glued  his  ear  to  the  draughty  aperture  the 
rest  of  the  conversation  only  came  to  him  in  mad- 
deningly disconnected  scraps. 

" — you  don't  say — " 

" — millionaire — stolen  papers — my  father's 
heritage — " 

"I  don't  see—" 

"You  must  help  me — to-night — the  key — " 

"Ain't  it  wrong — ?" 

"Wrong  to  help — right  the  wrong — Susan,  my 
English  flower — " 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  207 

The  rest  was  smothered  in  a  tender  embrace. 
But  Monsieur  Bonnet  had  heard  enough.  He 
withdrew  on  tiptoe,  removed  his  cap  and  apron, 
took  his  best  coat  out  of  the  cupboard  and  pro- 
ceeded upstairs  with  the  air  of  sinister  purpose 
worthy  of  a  Machiavelli.  Monsieur  Bonnet  was 
in  point  of  fact  a  cook  only  by  accident.  Had  the 
times  or  his  country  demanded  it  of  him  he  would 
have  made  an  equally  famous  diplomatist  or  gen- 
eral. And  it  was  in  these  capacities  that  he  way- 
laid the  unsuspecting  Dr.  Frohlocken  on  the  hotel 
terrace. 

"Monsieur,  a  word  wiz  you!" 

Dr.  Frohlocken,  immersed  in  a  new  theory  of 
the  subconscious,  stopped  resentfully. 

"What  is  it?  Who  are  you?  What  did  you 
say  you  wanted?" 

Monsieur  Bonnet  glanced  cautiously  round.  No 
one  was  in  sight  except  a  small,  eccentric  looking 
visitor  who  sat  in  the  shade,  apparently  lost  in 
the  contemplation  of  the  heavens.  Monsieur 
Bonnet  laid  a  mysterious  finger  to  his  lips. 

"I  would  ask  you  a  question.  You  are  a  doc- 
tor— a  famous  doctor?" 

"I  believe  so,"  returned  Dr.  Frohlocken  more 
pleasantly. 

"You  are  a  man  of  honour?" 

"As  far  as  I  know — " 


ao8  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Then  are  you  not  aware  zat  you  protect  a 
scoundrel — a  robber — un  scelerat?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken  contemplated  his  unknown  com- 
panion in  blank,  rather  offended  surprise. 

"I  certainly  am  not  aware  of  any  such  thing,'* 
he  declared  energetically.  "I  have  had  charge  of 
certain  so-called  lunatics  and  some  of  them  may 
have  appeared  to  be,  and  were  undoubtedly  scoun- 
drels, but — " 

"Wait!"  Monsieur  Bonnet  held  up  a  com- 
manding hand.  "You  are  a  man  of  honour — I 
appeal  to  you.  Ze  'appiness  of  one  dear  to  me 
depends  on  you.  Answer  me,  Monsieur.  Who  is 
this  Count  de  Bontemps?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken,  from  being  offended,  became 
vaguely  uneasy. 

"The  Count  de  Bontemps — the  Count  de  Bon- 
temps  is  a  friend — a  cousin — of — of  the  Count  de 
Beaulieu." 

"And  'ow  do  you  know  zat?" 

"Good  heavens,  man — "  the  doctor  made  a  ges- 
ture of  increasing  irritability — "he — the  Count 
de  Beaulieu — said  so." 

"And  who  is  this  Count  de  Beaulieu?" 

Dr.  Frohlocken  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "As 
far  as  I  am  concerned  he  is  No.  7 ;  speaking  with 
exactitude  that  is  all  I  know  of  him.  You  might 
as  well  ask  me  who  I  am." 

"I  ask  you  'ow  you  know?" 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  209 

"How  I  know  who  I  am?" 

"I  ask  you  'ow  you  know  'e  is  'e?" 

Both  parties  were  growing  more  heated.  Dr. 
Frohlocken  endeavoured  with  very  little  success 
to  counterfeit  an  expression  of  judicial  calm. 

"Before  I  answer  your  questions  I  would  be 
glad  to  know  who  you  are,"  he  said,  "and  why  you 
ask  them." 

"I  ask  them  because  not  five  minutes  ago  I  did 
'ear  ze  so  called  Comte  de  Bontemps  make  ze 
plans  wiz  my  scullery-maid  to  rob  Monsieur  Lan- 
caster who  arrive  only  this  day.  My  scullery- 
maid — elle  ne  salt  rien — she  is  innocent — she  is 
deceived — 'ypnotised  by  ze  scoundrel,  this 
rogue — " 

Dr.  Frohlocken  waved  his  arms  as  though  he 
were  trying  to  swim  through  the  torrent  of  words. 

"It's  intolerable — idiotic.  Why  don't  they 
teach  people  to  say  what  they  mean?  I  don't 
understand  a  thing  you're  talking  about.  It's  this 
damned  unscientific  thinking — " 

"Excoose  me,  gentlemen!"  Both  combatants 
were  arrested  by  the  drawling  accents.  Unknown 
to  them  the  stranger  on  the  terrace  had  ceased  con- 
templating the  heavens  and  now  stood  negligently 
leaning  against  the  balcony,  a  cigar  stuck  in  the 
corner  of  his  mouth,  a  peculiar  smile  on  his  wiz- 
ened little  face.  "  'Scoose  me,"  he  repeated. 
"Overhearing  other  people's  talk  is  all  part  of  my 


2IO 

business,  and  I  overheard  yours.  My  name's 
Washington  Jones.  Here's  my  card.  If  you  don't 
believe  it  ask  Mr.  Lancaster.  I'm  his  charge 
d'affaires,  as  you  might  say." 

"I  really  don't  see — "  Dr.  Frohlocken  began — 

" — what  business  I've  got  in  this  galere?"  Mr. 
Washington  Jones  interrupted.  "It's  just  this — 
I  know  what  you're  talking  about  and  you  don't. 
Monsieur  Bonnet — this  gentlemen  here — has  got 
his  nose  somewhere  near  the  scent,  but  you've 
made  altogether  an  astonishing  fool  of  yourself, 
Dr.  Frohlocken." 

Dr.  Frohlocken  drew  himself  up  with  dignity. 

"I  expect  proof  of  that  statement,  sir." 

"Waal,  I  guess  that's  what  I'm  going  to  give 
you.  You  think  this  young  man  of  yours  is  the 
Count  de  Beaulieu,  don't  you?" 

"I  do  not.  I  never  said  so.  I  always  pro- 
tested— " 

"Well,  he  isn't!" 

"Bah!"  said  Monsieur  Bonnet,  and  snapped  his 
fingers  triumphantly.  Dr.  Frohlocken  ran  his 
fingers  wildly  through  his  hair. 

"Is  this  man  mad?"  he  demanded. 

"Read  that!"  said  Mr.  Washington  Jones 
placidly. 

With  impatient  fingers  the  Doctor  took  the 
offered  newspaper  cutting  and  hurried  over  the 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  211 

first  few  lines.  And  very  slowly  a  light  of  triumph 
spread  over  his  sallow  countenance. 

"You  mean — that's  him — ?"  he  said. 

"That's  him,"  said  Mr.,  Washington  Jones, 
with  a  corresponding  lack  of  grammar. 

"Bah!"  said  Monsieur  Bonnet  to  no  one  in 
particular,  but  with  the  satisfaction  of  victory. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

NINE  o'clock  struck.  The  Count  and  Countess 
sat  on  either  side  of  the  fire-place  and  simul- 
taneously both  glanced  at  the  clock  and  then  at 
each  other;  simultaneously  their  eyes  returned  to 
their  books.  After  that  ten  minutes  passed  before 
either  moved.  Their  respective  novels  must  have 
provided  ponderous  reading,  for  the  pages  were 
left  unturned,  and  when  the  Count  ventured  to 
look  up  again  he  found  his  wife  was  watching  him 
surreptitiously  from  under  cover  of  her  eyeslashes. 

"You  are  looking  tired,"  she  observed  hastily, 
as  though  offering  an  explanation.  "You  are 
pale." 

"I  have  a  headache,"  he  admitted.  "It's  the 
weather.  You  don't  look  very  well  either.  Hadn't 
you  better  go  to  bed?" 

"Oh  no,  thank  you.    But  don't  wait  up  for  me." 

Further  silence.  At  intervals  stolen  glances  at 
the  clock.  At  last  the  Countess  Theodora  rose. 
Her  face  indeed  justified  her  husband's  statement 
that  she  was  not  looking  well.  It  was  deadly  white 
and  the  hands  that  played  nervously  with  the  long 
gold  chain  were  obviously  trembling. 

212 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  213 

"I  think — "  she  began  with  a  little  gulp — "I 
think  I  shall  go  to  bed,  Louis,  I  am  feeling  upset. 
It  is  the  heat — or  the  cold  or  something.  Good 
night." 

He  rose  and  approached  her  anxiously. 

"Theodora — can  I  get  you  anything — shall  I 
send  for  the  doctor?" 

"Oh,  no,  no."  She  held  out  her  hands  as 
though  to  ward  him  off  and,  instead,  yielded  them 
with  a  sudden  impetuousness  into  his  clasp.  "I 
have  been  very  horrid  to  you  and  you  are  very, 
very  kind  to  me,  Louis.  But  you  must  not  bother 
about  me — never,  never!" 

"Never?"  he  said  with  a  whimsical  sadness. 

"No,  never."  She  hesitated,  toying  with  a  kind 
of  desperate  playfulness  with  the  buttons  on  his 
coat.  "Really,  I'm  not  worth  bothering  about, 
Louis." 

"Isn't  that  for  me  to  decide?" 

"No,  no,  I  know  better  than  you.  If — if  I  had 
known  you  were  so — so  good  and  chivalrous — and 
generous — I  wouldn't  have  done  it — I  mean  I 
wouldn't  have  consented  to  marrying  you.  It  was 
wrong — " 

"I'd  do  it  all  over  again, — "  he  broke  in  im- 
petuously. 

"Would  you?" 

He  flushed. 

"No,— I  wouldn't—" 


214  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"Ah,  you  see!" 

His  lips  parted  with  his  one  and  only  reason — 
then  closed  again.  She  laughed  brokenly. 

"Do  not  try  to  soften  it.  I  have  understood. 
How  could  it  be  otherwise.  You  have  done  what 
you  felt  was  your  duty  and  I  have  made  you  suf- 
fer." She  drew  back  her  head  and  for  a  moment 
looked  him  full  and  straight  in  the  eyes.  "I  am 
sorry  for  everything  I  have  done  to  hurt  you," 
she  said  solemnly.  "I  want  you  to  believe  that — 
that  I  couldn't  help  myself.  Had  things  been  dif- 
ferent—" 

"Ah,  had  things  been  different!"  he  interrupted 
sighing. 

"Who  knows — then?"  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders  recklessly.  "Why  do  we  stand  here 
talking  of  the  might-have-beens?  It  is  so  foolish 
— so  useless — and  it  is  late.  Bon  soir,  Monsieur, 
mon  mari!" 

"Theodora!" 

She  looked  back  at  him  from  between  the 
parted  curtains. 

"Bon  soir,  Monsieur,  mon  mari!"  she  repeated 
softly  as  though  the  phrase  pleased  her  and  the 
next  minute  she  was  gone. 

The  Count  made  a  movement  to  follow  her, 
then  stood  irresolutely  staring  at  the  spot  where 
she  had  vanished  until  with  alarming  abruptness 
the  clock  struck  the  half  hour.  Then  he  started 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  215 

like  a  man  awakening  from  a  dream  and,  crossing 
to  his  writing  desk,  took  pen  and  paper  and  began 
to  write. 

"My  wife,"  he  wrote  clearly,  "though  my 
knowledge  of  the  French  language  is  limited  I  be- 
lieve you  have  just  called  me  husband  for  the 
first  time  as  though  you  meant  it.  I  call  you 
'Hfe'  for  the  last  time,  though  I  think  you  will 
remain  that  to  me  always  in  spite  of  everything. 
Still — it  is  a  title  from  which  you  have  every  right 
to  free  yourself.  I  am  not  the  Count  de  Beaulieu 
and  I  do  not  know  how  you  ever  came  to  suppose 
I  was.  From  my  point  of  view  I  don't  know  who 
I  am  but  the  person  whom  I  was  forced  to  intro- 
duce to  you  as  the  Count  de  Bontemps  declares 
that  I  am  his  brother.  As  he  is  a  scoundrel,  I 
presume  I  am  a  scoundrel  also — I  have  certainly 
acted  as  one.  A  Lucky  Pig,  which  is  the  one 
thing  I  brought  with  me  out  of  my  mysterious  and 
unknown  past,  points  to  my  being  the  notorious 
William  Brown,  alias  Slippery  Bill.  George  con- 
firms this — so  now  you  know  what  manner  of  man 
you  have  married.  Have  I  any  excuse  to  offer? 
Well,  I  think  I  can  plead  that  I  was  driven  into 
this  false  position.  When  I  recovered  conscious- 
ness after  that  accident — or  whatever  it  was — I 
couldn't  remember  anything  about  myself.  In- 
spector Smythe  put  two  and  two  together,  how- 


2i6  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

ever,  and  apparently  made  five,  but  that  wasn't 
altogether  my  fault,  was  it?  I  did  not  remember 
any  of  my  past  crimes,  and  for  all  I  knew  he  was 
right — indeed  if  he  had  said  I  was  the  Emperor 
of  China  I  should  have  believed  him.  After- 
wards, of  course — thanks  to  that  unlucky  Pig — I 
found  out  who  I  really  was,  but  then  it  was  too 
late.  And  now  the  game  is  up.  The  real  Count 
— and  he  was  a  worse  scoundrel  than  I  was  for 
deserting  you  for  that  fair-haired  doll — has  turned 
up,  and  it's  only  a  question  of  hours  before  he 
proves  his  identity.  In  any  case  I  should  have  to 
own  up  to  you.  I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer.  Of 
course  it  was  natural  that  you  shouldn't  care  for 
me  and  I  don't  blame  you.  I  deceived  you  and 
your  feminine  intuition  found  me  out.  You  grew 
to  care  for  someone  else — and  I  couldn't  bear  it. 
I  couldn't  bear  to  see  you  unhappy — or  to  see 
you  caring  for  another  man.  This  brings  me  up 
to  the  last  point  in  my  confession.  I  love  you. 
That's  why  I'm  off — why  I  am  going  to  commit 
a  last  crime  in  order  to  make  good  my  escape  and 
why  afterwards  I  shall  try  to  live  an  honest  life. 
It's  the  one  atonement  I  can  offer. 
"Your  devoted  and  unhappy  husband 

"The  Rogue." 

"Are  you  ready,  old  bird?" 

William  Brown,  as  he  was  to  be  from  hence- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  217 

forth,  started  to  his  feet,  and  then,  as  he  saw 
the  grinning  face  in  the  doorway,  nodded  a  curt 
assent. 

"Yes." 

"Coast  clear?" 

"Yes — wait  a  moment  though  till  I  have  ad- 
dressed this  envelope." 

"Parting  love-letter,  eh?" 

"Hold  your  tongue!" 

George  grimaced  rudely.  William  Brown  fin- 
ished his  task  in  stern  silence.  Then,  as  he  threw 
the  pen  down  with  a  sigh  of  bitter  satisfaction,  he 
caught  sight  of  a  second  envelope  addressed  to 
him,  propped  up  against  a  vase,  with  the  injunc- 
tion "not  to  be  opened  till  to-morrow  morning." 
This  letter  he  thrust  into  his  pocket. 

"Are  you  coming  or  are  you  waiting  for  your 
escort  to  take  you  to  Buckingham  Palace?" 

"I'm  coming — I'm  coming!" 

A  moment  later  both  men  stood  together  in  the 
quiet  passage.  Downstairs  they  heard  the  sub- 
dued strains  of  music  and  the  hum  of  voices. 
George  put  his  finger  to  his  nose. 

"Grand  doings,"  he  said  briefly.  "The  road  is 
as  clear  as  it  could  be.  Try  and  look  innocent, 
dear  boy,  and  come  along.  My  little  friend  Susan 
has  given  me  the  key  to  No.  36 — it  will  be  as 
easy  as  flying — " 


2i 8  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

" — and  about  as  safe,"  commented  the  Rogue 
gloomily. 

George  chuckled  but  made  no  answer,  and  in 
silence  they  proceeded  down  the  corridor.  Their 
progress  was  open  and  even  ostentatious.  The 
chamber-maid  who  bade  them  good-night  did  not 
even  trouble  to  look  after  them  and  yawned  her 
way  back  to  her  own  quarters. 

"Now  1"  said  George  quietly. 

They  had  reached  room  No.  36.  George 
stopped,  took  a  key  from  his  pocket  and  fitted  it 
into  the  lock. 

"Susan  is  to  meet  me  outside  the  gates,"  he 
observed  casually.  "I  hope  the  dear  little  thing 
won't  catch  cold." 

But  on  this  cynical  hope  his  wretched  partner 
made  no  comment.  The  key  turned  easily,  and 
with  a  gracefully  inviting  gesture  George  mo- 
tioned William  Brown  into  the  dark  and  silent 
room.  Both  darkness  and  silence  oppressed  the 
latter  with  an  eerie  prescience  of  danger,  but  he 
said  nothing  and  clenched  his  chattering  teeth, 
desperately  intent  on  seeing  the  business  through. 

"The  safe's  over  by  the  window,"  his  com- 
panion whispered.  "Take  this  electric  torch  and 
turn  it  on  when  I  tell  you.  We  mustn't  be  waste- 
ful with  the  gas." 

On  tip-toe  both  men  crossed  the  room  to  the 
spot  which  George  had  indicated.  A  small  trav- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  219 

elling  safe  of  determined  appearance  had  been  set 
against  the  wall  and,  obeying  a  curt  command, 
the  Rogue  switched  on  the  torch.  Its  straight 
stream  of  light  fell  on  the  lock  and  there  was  a 
soft  clink  of  steel  instruments  as  George  set  to 
work.  The  business  filled  William  Brown  with 
indescribable  and  unnatural  horror.  It  was  insult 
added  to  injury  that  he  couldn't  even  be  dishonest 
with  a  good  conscience.  Whatever  he  had  been 
in  the  past  he  was  now  a  hopeless  failure.  "I'll 
have  to  go  straight,"  he  thought.  "I  can't  stand 
this  sort  of  thing  any  more — I  simply  can't."  He 
was,  in  fact,  suffering  acutely.  Every  hoarse  rasp 
of  the  file  seemed  to  vibrate  down  his  backbone 
and  George's  breathing  magnified  itself  in  his  ears 
to  the  stentorian  snorting  of  a  bull.  He  looked 
nervously  about  him.  A  shadow  moved.  He  at- 
tributed it  at  first  to  the  light — then  suddenly  a 
fearful  suspicion  grew  to  a  blood-curdling  cer- 
tainty. 

"George!"  he  whispered.  "There's  somebody 
in  the  room — there — behind  the  wardrobe — " 

The  next  instant  the  torch  was  dashed  from  his 
hand.  He  felt  himself  half  dragged,  half  carried 
to  the  open  window  and  before  he  had  time  to 
utter  more  than  a  gasp  of  protest  he  was  flying 
through  a  horrible  space  which  ended  suddenly 
and  uncomfortably  in  the  mouldy  moistness  of  a 
flower-bed.  Choking,  his  mouth  and  eye?  and  nose 


220  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

full  of  the  damp  earth,  the  Rogue  scrambled  to 
his  feet.  The  room  which  he  had  left  thus  un- 
ceremoniously was  now  brightly  lit  and  excited 
shadows  ran  backwards  and  forwards  against  the 
yellow  background.  But  he  had  no  time  to  con- 
sider the  situation.  A  figure  rose  up  from  the 
flower  bed  beside  him  and  gripped  him  by  the 
arm. 

"We're  mugged!"  George  spluttered.  "That 
vixen — that  blue-eyed  cat  has  done  me.  Never 
trust  a  woman — never.  There's  nothing  for  it 
but  to  show  a  clean  pair  of  heels.  The  gate's  no 
good.  Make  for  the  wall.  After  that  try  for 
the  station  in  time  for  the  express.  I'll  keep  to 
the  woods.  Off  with  you !" 

His  confederate  waited  for  no  more.  The  in- 
stinct of  self-preservation  lent  him  a  speed  and 
agility  with  which  he  would  never  have  accredited 
himself.  The  five-foot  wall  might  have  been  two 
feet — the  two  miles  to  the  station  thirty  yards. 
No  one  intervened  to  check  his  wild  progress 
though  he  swerved  at  every  shadow,  and  at  last 
the  light  of  Bunmouth  Station  hove  in  sight. 
Breathless,  gasping  and  hatless,  he  drew  up  at  the 
booking-office.  The  instinct  of  self-preservation 
had  forgotten  to  lend  him  a  measure  of  common- 
sense,  for  his  state  would  have  aroused  the  sus- 
picions of  an  angel.  He  realised  this  fact  as  he 
passed  the  barrier  and  faced  the  familiar  station- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  221 

master.  Instinctively  he  pulled  himself  up  to  meet 
the  worst.  To  his  utter  amazement  the  gentleman 
in  dark  blue  merely  touched  his  cap. 

"Close  shave,  your  lordship,"  he  said  pleas- 
antly. "You  seem  to  have  had  a  run  for  it." 

"I  have,"  William  Brown  admitted  truthfully. 

"Another  minute  and  you'd  have  missed,"  the 
station-master  went  on.  "I've  reserved  a  compart- 
ment higher  up." 

William  Brown  shook  his  head  feebly  as  though 
protesting  against  the  crazy  vagaries  of  fortune, 
but  followed  unresisting.  The  express  was  already 
moving  as  the  guard  unlocked  the  door  of  a  first- 
class  compartment. 

"There  you  are!"  he  said.    "Just  in  time,  sir  I" 

The  door  was  slammed  to  and  the  fugitive  heard 
no  more.  He  broke  down  helplessly  in  a  corner 
seat  and  did  not  move  until  the  lights  of  the  sta- 
tion had  disappeared  round  a  curve.  Then  for 
the  first  time  he  realised  that  he  was  not  alone. 
He  looked  up  and  encountered  the  horrified,  be- 
wildered gaze  of  the  Countess  Theodora. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THEY  stared  at  each  other  for  a  full  minute  in 
frankly  aghast  silence.  The  Countess's  face  was 
whiter  than  marble;  the  perspiration  stood  out  in 
beads  on  the  Count's  forehead.  Thrice  he  es- 
sayed to  speak  and  twice  failed.  The  third  time 
he  managed  to  bring  out  her  name. 

"Theodora!" 

"Louis!" 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  here?" 

She  drew  herself  up  defiantly. 

"I'm  running  away." 

"From  me — ?  Ah,  I  understand!"  He  put 
his  shaking  hand  to  his  collar.  "You  have  read 
my  letter — you  know  everything?" 

"Your  letter?  I  have  it  here.  I  found  it  on 
your  table — but  I  have  not  read  it." 

"Not  read  it?  Then  why  are  you  here?  Why 
are  you  running  away?  Ah — it  is  that  Saunders — 
that  scoundrel — " 

"Louis — don't  you  understand?  What  are  you 
talking  about?  Haven't  you  got  my  note?" 

"7o«rnote?" 

His  jaw  dropped.     Mechanically  he  took  the 

222 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  223 

crumpled  envelope  from  his  pocket  and  considered 
it  as  though  it  might  have  been  a  bomb. 

"I  hadn't  time,"  he  stammered.  "I  don't  under- 
stand anything  at  all." 

"Then  why  are  you  here?  Why  have  you  come 
after  me?  How  did  you  know  I  was  in  this 
train?" 

"Know?"  William  Brown  clasped  his  hands  in 
mute  appeal  to  the  unseen  powers.  "I  didn't 
know.  Otherwise  I'd  rather  have  been  hanged, 
drawn  and  quartered  than  have  got  into  this  car- 
riage." 

"Then — "  She  endeavoured  to  steady  the 
trembling  of  her  lips.  "I  really  think  it  would  be 
simpler  if  we  both  read  our  letters,"  she  said  des- 
perately. 

"It  seems  like  it,"  Brown  admitted. 

In  silence  they  tore  open  their  respective  en- 
velopes. For  a  minute  the  Rogue's  dazed  con- 
sciousness that  she  was  reading  the  confession  of 
his  villainy  blinded  him — then  he  forced  himself 
to  read  the  hastily  scrawled  lines. 

"My  husband,  I  am  leaving  you  because  I  am 
unworthy  of  you.  I  am  a  wicked  woman.  I  have 
deceived  you.  I  have  misused  your  chivalry  and 
goodness.  I  have  taken  advantage  of  your  mis- 
fortune, I  am  not  Theodora  de  Melville — I  never 
was.  My  name — my  maiden  name — was  Theo- 


224  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

dora  Saunders.  My  people  are  poor,  but,  incred- 
ible as  it  may  seem,  honourable.  Two  years  ago, 
to  help  them,  I  became  the  Countess  de  Melville's 
companion  and  afterwards  her  intimate  friend. 
With  her  I  learnt  to  speak  French  sufficiently  well 
to  deceive  you — thanks  to  our  arrangement  to 
speak  English  in  England  my  knowledge  was  never 
put  severely  to  the  test — and  it  was  I  who  fled 
with  her  when  she  came  to  England  to  marry  you. 
We  waited  for  you  at  the  appointed  meeting  place 
but  you  never  came.  We  knew  nothing  of  the 
shipwreck  and  the  Countess  believed  that  she 
had  been  betrayed.  She  dared  not  return  to  her 
people  and  decided  to  take  refuge  with  a  rich 
aunt  in  America.  Before  she  left  she  gave  me  all 
your  letters  and  presents  and  bade  me  find  you  out 
and  give  them  back  to  you.  I  did  so — as  soon  as 
I  heard  where  you  were.  Naturally  I  heard  also 
that  you  had  lost  your  memory.  About  that  time 
my  family  was  in  desperate  straits.  My  brother, 
Cecil,  whom  you  met,  had  made  debts  of  honour 
which  he  could  not  meet  and  dared  not  confess  to 
his  father.  It  was  he  who  suggested  to  me  that 
I  should  play  the  part  of  the  Countess  Theodora. 
Our  Christian  names  were  the  same  and  I  had 
your  letters  to  help  me.  Louis — all  the  same  I 
did  not  mean  to  go  through  with  it — but  the 
trick  was  so  horribly,  painfully  successful.  I  was 
driven  on  and  on.  Cecil  pointed  out  to  me  that 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  225 

even  if  I  was  found  out  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad.  I 
could  have  concealed  my  own  identity  and  my 
father  and  mother  would  have  been  spared  the 
disgrace  of  a  dishonoured  son.  You  see — it  was 
a  choice  between  the  son  and  the  daughter — and 
it  is  always  better  for  the  daughter  to  go  under, 
isn't  it?  Of  course  my  people  knew  nothing — they 
believe  I  am  still  earning  my  bread  honourably. 
Cecil  helped  me  to  deceive  them,  but  now  that  he 
is  on  his  way  to  South  Africa  there  is  no  reason 
why  I  should  go  on  with  the  cruel  farce.  Further 
deceit  is  useless  and  discovery  imminent.  In  any 
case  I  could  not  have  borne  it  any  longer.  I  have 
acted  wickedly,  shamelessly,  criminally,  but  I  have 
suffered!  Oh,  I  have  suffered  terribly.  When  I 
think  of  that  dreadful  woman — that  Mrs.  Pagot- 
Chump — 1  Of  course  you  had  no  reason  to  care 
for  me — I  had  deceived  you  and  your  instinct  knew 
it — but  it  hurt  all  the  same.  And  now  comes  the 
worst  part  of  my  punishment:  I  must  leave  you 
and  you  must  know  who  I  really  am.  I  can  hardly 
bear  it.  Oh,  Louis,  Fate  has  played  me  such  a 
cruel  trick!  She  has  made  me  care  for  the  man 
I  have  treated  so  badly — she  has  made  me  love 
him.  Oh,  Louis,  if  you  only  knew  how  miserable 
I  have  been  you  would  forgive  as  I  hope  you  will 
forget — 

"Your  loving  and  unhappy 

"Theodora." 


226  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

William  Brown  looked  up.  His  wife  looked 
up  at  the  same  moment.  Simultaneously  they 
broke  out  into  an  hysterical  peal  of  laughter. 

"Louis — you  humbug!" 

"Theodora — my  darling  adventuress!" 

"Then  you're  not  the  Count?" 

"No — you're  sure  you're  not  the  Countess?" 

"Positive!" 

"Thank  Heaven!" 

He  caught  her  in  a  wild  joyful  embrace  and  for 
a  full  two  minutes  detectives,  pursuing  policemen 
and  deeply  injured  French  noblemen  were  for- 
gotten in  a  tumult  of  happiness.  Then  William 
Brown  gently  released  himself. 

"You  don't  know  what  I've  done,  Theodora," 
he  said.  "I've  robbed  and  forged — perhaps  mur- 
dered. It's  a  lifer  at  least  if  I  get  caught." 

"I  don't  care — I'll  wait  for  you — I'll  hang 
with  you — I'll  stand  by  you  whatever  happens — 
whatever  you've  done!" 

"Theodora — angel !" 

"My  dear,  dear  Rogue!" 

It  was  at  that  precise  and  beautiful  moment  that 
the  Express  went  off  the  rails.  The  accident  has 
always  been  one  of  the  mysteries  of  that  particu- 
lar line  for  the  train  was  not  travelling  at  a  great 
speed.  The  shock  was  nevertheless  sufficient  to 
separate  the  newly  united  couple  and  send  the 
Rogue  flying  across  the  compartment,  where  the 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  227 

back  of  his  head  encountered  the  door  handle. 
He  was  briefly  aware  of  a  magnificent  display  of 
celestial  fireworks  and  of  somebody  calling  to 
him  from  a  long  way  off — then  everything  rolled 
away  into  velvety  darkness  and  peaceful  silence. 

When  the  velvety  darkness  began  to  thin  the 
Rogue  made  no  attempt  to  hasten  the  process.  He 
was  feeling  very  comfortable,  very  happy,  entirely 
disinclined  to  exert  himself.  He  was  vaguely 
aware  that  a  change  had  come  over  him  but  what 
the  change  was  he  could  not  be  bothered  to  think 
and,  when  he  opened  his  eyes  at  last,  the  sight  of 
his  hotel  bed-room  and  a  white-haired  man  seated 
beside  him  caused  him  no  particular  surprise. 

"Hullo,  dad!"  he  said  simply  and  cheerfully. 
The  minute  he  had  spoken  however,  he  knew  that 
something  wonderful  had  happened — that  the 
vaguely  felt  change  had  become  definite.  He  sat 
up  with  his  hand  to  his  bandaged  head  and  stared 
about  him.  "Why,  what's  happened?"  he  asked. 

The  old  gentleman  laid  a  soothing  affectionate 
hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"My  dear  boy — you've  recovered  your  memory 
— that's  all,"  he  said.  "You  know  who  I  am, 
don't  you?" 

"Of  course — you're  my  father." 

"And  you  know  who  you  are?" 

"Why — Roger  Lancaster  of  course !" 


228  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

Dr.  Frohlocken,  who  had  been  standing  con- 
cealed behind  the  curtains  of  the  window,  appeared 
at  this  moment,  like  an  unusual  looking  Deus  ex 
machina. 

"May  this  be  a  lesson  to  you  all,"  he  said 
severely.  "But  more  than  anyone  I  blame  that 
idiot — that  Inspector.  Didn't  I  protest?  Didn't 
I  tell  him?  Circumstantial  evidence  !  Nonsense  I 
Rubbish!  Utterly  unscientific.  And  you  your- 
self, No.  7  led  astray  by  a  ridiculous  pig!  How- 
ever, let  that  pass.  Do  you  remember  how  you 
came  to  London?" 

"I  came  to  study." 

"Right !  You  observe  Mr.  Lancaster — you  will 
note — a  complete  recovery.  You  remember  how 
you  came  to  lose  consciousness." 

"I  believe  I  was  attacked  by  someone." 

"Probably — and  afterwards — when  you  came 
round — do  you  remember  that?" 

The  patient  stared  at  his  father  in  sudden 
white-faced  consternation. 

"Why — yes,  I  do  I"  he  gasped.  "Good  heavens 
— what  an  awful  kettle  of  fish !  What  shall  I  do, 
sir?  Get  me  out  of  England  before  that  Count 
and  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump  catch  me,  or  there'll  be 
murder." 

Mr.  Lancaster  chuckled. 

"Don't  worry,  my  dear  boy.  Everything  has 
been  explained.  Thanks  to  an — er — slight  scien- 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  229 

tific  miscalculation  the  Count  de  Beaulieu  was 
arrested  yesterday  on  a  charge  of  fraudulent  mis- 
representation, but  I  got  him  out  this  morning  and 
he  has  accepted  apologies,  explanations  and  com- 
pensations. The  Countess  is  at  the  present  mo- 
ment in  the  next  room,  renewing  her  friendship 
and  exchanging  notes  with — your  wife."  He 
paused  and  watched  his  son  narrowly.  "It  appears 
that  the  Count  made  his  escape  from  the  hospital 
in  order  to  follow  the  Countess  when  he  heard 
that  she  had  gone  to  America.  He  overtook  her 
in  New  York  and  after  various  explanations  and 
reconciliations  they  were  married  out  there.  As 
to  Mrs.  Pagot-Chump — well,  she  assures  me  that 
the  pleasure  of  making  your  acquaintance  atones 
for  any  unpleasantness.  So  you  see,  all's  well  that 
ends  well." 

Roger  Lancaster  shook  his  head. 

"It's  all  a  most  glorious  confusion,"  he  said. 
"How  did  you  find  me  out,  sir?" 

"When  I  missed  you  I  travelled  all  over  Europe 
after  you,"  the  elder  man  answered.  "Fortunately 
I  obtained  the  services  of  this  gentleman  here." 
He  indicated  the  small  neatly  attired  individual 
who  was  leaning  negligently  against  the  mantel- 
piece. "I  think  you  have  met  before." 

"Washington  Jones,  Private  Detective,  at  your 
service,"  the  little  man  said  with  an  easy  bow. 
"Pleased  to  welcome  you  back  to  your  right  mind, 


230  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

sir.  Thought  I  knew  you  when  we  met  in  Herbert 
Street,  but  couldn't  be  sure  till  I  got  your  father 
on  the  spot.  One  of  my  best  jobs,  sir." 

"I'm  sure  we're  very  grateful,"  Roger 
answered.  He  glanced  uneasily  at  the  door.  "I 
say  though — what  about  George — and — that — 
that  Pig?" 

Mr.  Washington  Jones'  face  creased  itself  into 
innumerable  folds  of  laughter,  though  he  made 
no  sound. 

"George  and  the  Lucky  Pig  have  disappeared 
and  I  don't  suppose  we  shall  see  either  of  'em 
again,"  he  said.  "This  letter,  addressed  to  the 
Count  de  Beaulieu's  locum  tenens,  arrived  at  the 
Bunmouth  Hotel  this  morning.  I  ventured  to  open 
it  and  here  it  is.  If  you  permit  me  to  read  it  to 
you  I  guess  you  won't  need  much  more  explain- 
ing." He  took  out  a  dirty  sheet  of  paper  from 
his  pocket  and  cleared  his  throat. 

"Dear  old  bird,"  he  read  out.  "You  are  not 
Slippery  Bill — you're  merely  a  Silly  Duffer.  What 
else  you  are  besides  this  I  really  don't  know  ex- 
cept that  you're  the  fellow  I  dropped  on  that 
evening  Dr.  Frohlocken  missed  his  silver.  I 
changed  clothes  with  you  whilst  you  were  dozing 
on  the  doorstep — I  fear  I  have  rather  a  heavy 
hand — and  that  is  how  you  came  to  have  my  Lucky 
Pig,  which  animal,  by  the  way,  I  ventured  to  nip 


ROGUES  &  COMPANY  231 

off  your  watch-chain  at  parting.  In  exchange — I 
intended  to  return  the  gold  watch  I  accepted  from 
you  at  our  first  meeting  but  really  we  were  rather 
pressed  for  time,  were  we  not,  and  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  grudge  me  the  little  souvenir.  Please  give 
my  respects  to  Dr.  Frohlocken  and  tell  him  his 
silver  was  really  very  much  over-estimated  and 
quite  beneath  my  notice.  Also  suggest  to  Mon- 
sieur Bonnet  that  he  forgive  Susan  as  soon  as 
he  recovers  his  temper.  She  is  quite  a  nice  little 
thing  and  should  make  an  excellent  cook,  if  her 
hands  are  anything  like  as  light  as  her  brains. 
And  now,  good-bye!  You  were  not  much  good 
in  my  profession,  but  you  made  an  excellent  Count, 
and  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  you  are 
really  something  highly  respectable.  In  any  case 
I  shall  always  bear  you  in  affectionate  remem- 
brance as  a  well  intentioned  understudy  and 
partner. 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"William  Brown,  alias  Slippery  Bill." 

"P.  S.  Give  my  love  to  the  police  and  tell 
them  that  No.  10,  Herbert  Street  is  to  let — un- 
furnished." 

"Well,  upon  my  word,  I  hope  they  don't  catch 
him!"  the  late  William  Brown  declared  delight- 
edly. 


232  ROGUES  &  COMPANY 

"And  you  can  stake  your  bottom  dollar  that 
they  won't,"  said  Mr.  Washington  Jones, — "un- 
less he  lands  in  the  States,  of  course,  in  which 
case — " 

But  the  younger  Lancaster  was  not  listening. 
At  that  moment  the  door  had  opened  and  he  held 
out  his  hands  in  glad  recognition. 

"Theodora  I"  he  said. 

She  came  towards  him — bravely  and  a  little  de- 
fiantly. 

"I  don't  know,  now  that  you  have  recovered 
your  memory,  if  you  want  to  see  me  again,"  she 
said. 

"I  want  to  see  and  keep  you  always." 

"You  are  sure  ?  Remember  who  I  am  and  what 
I  have  done!" 

"A  man  who  has  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  Slip- 
pery Bill  and  tried  to  rob  his  own  father  is 
scarcely  in  the  position  to  throw  stones,"  observed 
the  elder  Lancaster  grimly. 

"In  fact,  since  we're  rather  shady  characters," 
his  son  suggested,  "we  have  just  got  to  join  forces, 
my  wife!" 

"Rogues  &  Company!"  suggested  Dr.  Froh- 
locken  pleasantly.  But  as  the  two  chief  members 
of  his  audience  were  far  too  absorbed  in  each 
other  to  notice  him  this  last  stroke  of  genius 
passed  without  recognition. 

THE  END 


405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angetes 

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